Innocent People's Lives
by BregoBeauty
Summary: It's been ten years since Lisa and Jackson met in a Texas airport. She's now working for Charles Keefe, presidential candidate, and he's retreated into the shadows. Then an accident leaves Lisa in danger and the only person she can trust is the man she tried to kill once. Can they learn to work together to uncover the truth or will the past prevent their future?
1. Chapter 1

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Summary:** It's been ten years since a fateful flight brought a handsome stranger into her life. Then Lisa Reisert learned the truth – he was sent to "manage" her and get her to help him assassinate the Deputy Director of Homeland Security.

Now Charles Keefe is running for President of the United States and Lisa is working on his team as a secretary/personal assistant. It's a normal, busy life and perfect for a workaholic. Then an attack leaves Mrs. Keefe dead and Lisa running for life. And one of the men hired to kill her is none other than Jackson Rippner…

Can the former foes work together to unravel the truth behind the attack? Or will Lisa finally finish what she started on the plane?

 **Chapter One**

Late. She was going to be late. If her shoe heel hadn't snapped off in her hand this morning while dressing, everything would have gone according to plan. Her plan.

She wrote the schedules these days. She helped make the appointments, set the venues, and arrange transportation. She ran their very busy routine instead of a hotel.

Lisa Reisert hurried through the hotel lobby with her ever-present tablet tucked under her arm. She wanted to run, but settled for a fast walk instead, lest she rip her pencil skirt's seams. She'd done that by accident the previous week and spent the rest of the meeting trying to hide the tear up her thigh.

She had given them plenty of time to get across town. They would only lose about five minutes. She had budgeted an extra thirty in case of traffic. It wouldn't do to be late for today's speech. Not when they were getting so close to the primaries.

Lisa approached the waiting convey of black SUVs just outside the hotel. One of the security team members went to open the door of the first car as he saw her rounding the corner. She could make out Sarah Keefe's blonde head just inside.

Walking faster, she was about to say hello to one of the black-suited agents, when there was a loud boom.

The ground shook, glass shattered, and alarms shrieked as the middle SUV erupted into flames. Lisa was thrown backward by the blast. Her tablet skittered across the ground as her head smacked into the brick exterior of the hotel.

Spots danced before her eyes as she took in the wreckage of the SUVs. The metal frame was twisted and flames had engulfed the middle car. The first and third cars showed signs of damage as well and she could vaguely hear shouting along with the ringing in her ears.

Darkness pulled her under.

* * *

"An explosion in front of a local Marriott has resulted in three confirmed deaths and multiple injuries. Among those injured in the blast are Sarah Keefe, wife of presidential candidate, Charles Keefe. Keefe, former Director of Homeland Security, made headlines ten years ago when an attempt was made on his life. The cause of the explosion is still under investigation..." a news reporter said on the waiting room's small TV.

He pocketed his sunglasses, exposing light blue eyes, as he approached the second floor nurse's station.

Like most hospitals, chaos reigned. This of course worked in his favor.

Jackson Rippner waited for the nurse on duty to dash off with a chart before he slipped behind the desk and into the computer system. A quick glance gave him all the information he needed. She had been too busy to properly log off.

Just as fast and seamless, as he had slipped into the station, he pulled an abandoned white lab coat over his suit and wound a stethoscope over the back of his neck. No one would give him a second glance. That was just the way he liked it.

He turned the corner, glancing around at the room numbers as made his way to 237. Just as he had suspected, there were no guards on duty. Security would be preoccupied with protecting the front doors and the other priority patients. A chair had been pulled up outside the room, but it was vacant. He was just in time.

Jackson eased open the door and glanced in. Sure enough, she was still asleep.

He shut the door gently and crossed to the other side. He brushed a curl away from her eyes, marveling how even after all these years, she still looked and smelled the same. Nothing had changed except her hair was a bit longer and more layered.

She made a small sound and he moved away. There was an empty bed and two sets of privacy curtains further in the room. He got to work pulling both curtains a bit, giving him cover from the doorway. Now all Jackson had to do was wait.

The guard had been distracted—most likely paid off—and wouldn't be back until it was too late. That's how he would've done it. That's how he _had_ done it before.

But that wouldn't happen here. Not today. Not to his Leese.

Almost on cue, the door opened again. He could hear shoes on the linoleum floors.

He grinned to himself. This was almost too easy.

Jackson could see him around the curtain. He didn't bother to clear the room and was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Amateur.

The killer had a syringe in his hand. From his vantage point, he could see a clear fluid, probably a drug to stop her heart, filling it.

As he moved toward the sleeping Lisa, Jackson slipped out of his hiding spot. He didn't make a sound as he slipped an arm around him from behind, putting him in a headlock with his left arm as he used his right to guide the syringe into the would-be killer's leg. The man dropped without a sound.

Jackson stepped over the body and touched her bare arm. The boxy hospital gown swallowed her petite frame.

"Leese, time to get up."

She shifted a bit, making a mumbling sound.

He shook her arm. "Now."

Eyelids fluttered for a moment before those green eyes focused on his face.

He couldn't resist a smile. "Hello, Leese. Miss me?"

 **Author's Note:**

Should have the second chapter up soon. Not sure how long it will be, but I have a rough outline in my head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Two**

She blinked. _No, no, no, this has to be a nightmare. This can't be real._

There was no freaking way Jackson Rippner was standing in front of her. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she thought. Yes, she was hallucinating – that would explain it.

Lisa felt for the call button underneath her blanket, her eyes fixated on him. Before she could press the button, she felt the control slip from her grasp. It clattered onto the nearby tray table, just out of her reach.

"Nice try, Lisa, but aren't we beyond call buttons? Remember what happened last time?" he taunted.

Like she could forget. Even after ten years, that night stayed in her brain. It was imprinted permanently. "I'll scream," she said softly.

"And I'll smother you with your pillow."

"If you were going to kill me, why bother to wake me up?"

"Maybe I wanted to see the terror in your eyes when you finally realize I'm here to finish the job," he said, still the charmer after all this time.

She stared at him. "Why are you really here?"

"I already told you."

"You're lying. It's been ten years. Why now? Why today?"

Jackson sighed. "We don't have time for this." He crossed the room in two strides and threw open the cabinet. There was a plastic bag inside. He deposited the bag and its contents on her legs. "Get dressed. Now."

"No."

"Leese, if you don't…"

"You'll what? Kill my dad?"

Jackson cocked his head at her. "You and I both know he died of a heart attack three years ago."

Her skin crawled; her stomach in knots. "How long have you been watching me?"

"What makes you think I ever stopped?

 _Of course you didn't…_

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me what's going on."

He drummed his fingers on the bed rail. "Stubborn to the end. Fine, you want to know what's going on? Short version – there are people coming to kill you. I've already killed one but there's more. There's going to be lots more. And they won't stop until you're dead."

Lisa frowned. "You're joking."

"Look to your left. On the floor. Before he could inject you, I injected him. Whatever he had in that syringe stopped his heart cold. He was going to kill you, Leese."

She glanced at the crumpled form on the floor and felt her lungs tighten. _Any minute now I'm going to wake up and find this is really bad dream and I'm at home, safe, in my bed… This is not happening to me. Not again._

Jackson snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Focus. I need your full attention. We only have maybe seven minutes left until your guard comes back. He's expecting to find you dead in your bed. We need to be long gone before then. Now get dressed."

"No."

"Lisa, this is not the time to be stubborn. Either you dress yourself or I'll help you."

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you."

"We've already established that I'm not the bad guy here." He nudged the dead guy with his foot. "I know you hate me but right now you need to trust me."

"I could never trust you."

"If you don't, you're dead. Trust that."

She looked between him and the dead guy. There were no good options here. She could either stay put and possibly die, if he was right, or she could go with him and probably die at his hands.

"Fine. Give me a minute."

He turned his back, but she could tell by his posture that he was annoyed. Typical.

Carefully, she peeled the tape back on her IV port, wincing as it tugged at the fine hairs on her arm. She eased the port out of her skin, holding back tears as blood came to the surface. She clamped a hand over it to stem the flow of blood for a moment as she dropped the port.

Lisa kicked the blankets down the bed before reaching for the bag containing her clothes. She climbed out of the hospital bed slowly, negotiating around the rail, and pulled the dirty and torn skirt on first. She dropped the gown on the bed and eased on her ruined blouse. Her body was covered in bruises and small scraps. Everything ached, but it was better than being dead.

She stepped into her heels with a sigh and Jackson turned back around. "Ready?" he asked, pulling off the white coat.

She stared at him again. He was in a suit again with no tie. Only Jackson would dress up to kill someone.

He held out the lab coat. "Here… it'll hide the worst of it."

Frowning, she took the coat and slipped it on. "Why are you helping me?"

"I'll explain it all once we're away from here."

Against her better judgement she nodded and followed him to the door of her room.

* * *

He had forgotten how frustrating dealing with Lisa Reisert could be. She was already testing his patience and he'd only been with her a few minutes. Granted, he could have knocked her out and wheeled her out of the building but that would've meant he couldn't react as fast if they ran into someone along the way.

But next time, he was going to knock her out rather than deal with her inane questions.

Jackson had to stay focused in order to keep her alive. He couldn't be worried about dragging her along and keeping her alive at the same time. He needed her to cooperate so he could keep her safe. He couldn't assess their situation with her yapping in his ear.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Somewhere safe, now, ssh."

He led the way to a back staircase. It would be safer and probably just as fast as the elevator without the trouble of being boxed in. Most of the people looking for Lisa would check their first, or shut the elevators down, or use the cameras to track her movement. They needed to be quick and quiet.

"Where?"

"Later, Leese..." he hissed, taking her arm and steering her down the steps. "We need to get out of here now."

"Why? How did you know I was in danger?"

"There's a contract out on you. Half a million for you dead."

 **Author's Notes:**

It's great to be back playing with these characters again. I've been focused mainly on original works lately and I've become a self-published author with a series but I'll never forgot my roots. With it being ten years since the movie premiered, I knew I couldn't resist coming back to Jackson and Lisa.

I hope you guys have as much fun reading this as I am writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Three**

She gasped but he tugged her down the stairs after him. Around and around they went, her dragging behind. "Why would…?"

"Political reasons. And you're a witness."

"To what?"

He sighed as they cleared another floor, one more closer to the ground. "Sarah Keefe is in critical condition."

"How? Her car wasn't the one that exploded."

"That's why they want you dead. You're the only witness."

She tugged back, pulling out of his grip. "Wait, how do you know any of this?"

He stopped to look at her. _Again with the questions… does it ever end?_

"Jackson?" she pushed. "How do you know what I did or didn't see or why they'd want me dead? How do you know how much the contract is?"

He knew she wasn't going to move without answers and they didn't have time. The clock was going to run out and he hadn't brought any weapons. He'd thought about it and decided to risk it. He didn't want to worry about getting caught with a gun or knife by hospital security.

They were four floors from the ground. In a pinch, Jackson would throw her over his shoulder and carry her. But he'd rather not – she might try to stab him with her shoe. His thigh ached at the thought.

"I was one of the first people offered the money because of our history."

She was whiter than paper. All of the color had been bleached from her face. He could see the wheels churning in her head.

"Because of that, I couldn't let someone else take it. I'm not letting someone else take you out for a payday."

Lisa took a step back. He could see the instinct to flee in her eyes. He couldn't fault her – not this time.

"I'm not here to kill you. Don't make me say it again."

"Then why are you here? Why are you telling me this?"

He resisted the urge to check his watch. "Because for the past ten years I haven't been able to forget you. I haven't been able to walk away. You got under my skin and I should hate you for that. But I don't."

"What are you talking about? Is this some kind of obsession? That's sick."

"Leese, the longer we stand here and chit chat, the more likely it is that someone turns the corner and starts—"

A door banged open above them. He put his hand on her shoulder and shoved her around the corner. She stumbled a bit and he supported her. "Jack—"

"Ssh," he hissed. "Later."

* * *

She was going to have deep, gouge-like bruises from his grip.

Lisa still didn't know why she hadn't run away from him and screamed bloody murder already. Why was she trusting him? For all she knew, he could've set this entire thing up and hired the guy to play killer. But that was insane.

 _More insane than trusting the very man who tried to kill you?_

Jackson had many flaws, but he wasn't crazy. If he was, there was no way he'd have escaped prosecution all these years. Even Keefe's men hadn't been able to find him. They'd confirmed his death. Or rather, that Jackson Rippner never existed.

Lisa had spent the past ten years doing her best to forget him. To move on. But the truth was, he'd broken her. Physically, she'd been the stronger one. But he'd destroyed her trust in men. Because of him she kept others at arm's length. She avoided having a family because of it.

And just as she was preparing to make a big step forward, here he was again. And he wanted her to trust him.

Did she even have a choice?

He shoved her behind him as footsteps rang out in the stairwell above them. "When I tell you to run, you run. Got it, Leese?" he breathed into her neck.

She hesitated. Where would she run? Home was a few states away. How had Jackson got here? Did he have a car? Where was he taking her?

Footsteps again. He nudged her toward the next flight down.

Lisa bent down and kicked off her shoes. She could've sworn he'd smirked a little.

A man glanced over the railing from above. Jackson gave her a shove. "Run!" he shouted as a gun went off overhead.

She took off, down and around, her shoes held tight in her hand. Her body ached all over and she pushed through the pain. If she didn't, she'd die. Jackson might not be telling her the whole truth, but he was right about one thing—she was in danger.

There was a crashing sound above her. Against her better judgment, Lisa glanced back to see Jackson struggling with another man. This guy had "thug" all but tattooed on his face. He was muscle-bound and dressed in all black. The two men were grappling over a gun.

Jackson took a fist to the stomach, nearly doubling over.

Lisa glanced down toward the ground level. Two flights. So close.

Against her better judgment, she ran up.

The other man had the upper hand. There was no doubt about it. Jackson was merely buying her time. He was no match. Not for this guy. Not even if he'd been popping steroids.

The gun went off again.

She ran faster.

Jackson got a few good hits in. He was quick. It was his only saving grace from the devastating blows from their attacker. She was almost there, then the gun swung around. And it was aimed at his head.

Lisa hurled a shoe with all her might. It was too much to hope for the show to pierce him like a knife. But it sure as hell distracted him.

That's all it took. One moment.

The gun discharged again and warm blood splattered her face.

She flinched, freezing stone still in the middle of the stairs.

"It was us or him," Jackson said, tucking the gun in his waistband. He was rumpled, his lip bloody, but alive. He bent down and picked up her heel. He held the shoe out to her like a peace offering. "As much as I appreciate your help, Leese, the next time I tell you to run, you damn better well run."

She yanked her shoe out of his grip. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?"

"There's only about five hundred thousand reasons, none of which we have time to discuss. We need to move. There's more where he came from." He grabbed her elbow, guiding her down the stairs.

"How many more?"

"It's an open contract. I don't know how many. I don't know how high it goes."

"You said they came to you. Who came to you? Who is offering all this money? Who tried to kill Sarah?"

"You won't like the answer."

They reached another landing. She ripped the gun out of his waistband and aimed it directly at his chest. "I'm not taking another step until you tell me who. Who wants me dead?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Charles."

Her hand trembled. "What did you say?"

"Charles Keefe. He's the one who hired me to kill you."

 **Author's Notes:**

Took a bit longer to write this chapter than I expected. Everything else is pretty well planned. I'm hoping to get back on a regular schedule for this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Four**

"No, that's not possible."

The shaking grew worse. He reached out, his hand over hers and she let him. She didn't resist as he took the gun from her.

"He's been lying to you for years."

"No. You're wrong."

"Right now you're asking yourself how he knew where to find me. Where I've been for the past ten years. Right now you're thinking about when he came to you and told you I was dead. Right now you're wondering what kind of person does that. I'll tell you what kind. It's the kind of person who uses innocent people's lives for political gain."

She couldn't help but shake. "How long have you known him?"

"Twelve years."

She couldn't stop herself from a gasp. "No, that's not—"

"Think about it, Leese. Think really hard. You're a smart girl. Much smarter than he ever gave you credit for."

"That's insane! The missile… the hotel… his kids…"

Jackson nodded. "Yes. It was gonna be a close call. That's how he wanted it. What better way to raise his profile than a failed assassination? That's right—it was never supposed to succeed, Lisa. No one was going to die. You thought you saved him. You thought you were a hero. You weren't. You were his pawn."

"And my dad?"

"He was only in danger when you didn't play along. The moment you ran from me, it changed things. You changed the rules of engagement. I was told to terminate you. And your friend. We couldn't have you babbling about someone blackmailing you to kill a government official."

"So what you're saying is, this is all my fault?"

He shrugged.

"This is insane. _You're_ insane!"

"I will tell you everything you want to know as soon as we get out of here. Do you understand? This is bigger than me or you."

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with _you_!"

Jackson grabbed her by the elbow as she tried to turn away from him. "That's not an option, Leese. Not if you want to live."

"No! No!"

He grunted with effort as he picked her up. She screamed and kicked at him as he slung her over his shoulder.

"Put! Me! Down!" She punctuated each word with a punch, beating her fist against his chest.

He started down the stairs. "Not a chance. You're not thinking straight right now."

"Help! Someone help!"

Whack!

Without warning, he smacked her hard on the butt, causing her to yelp. "Don't draw attention to us or I will drop you on your head."

"Put me down!"

"I will knock you out if you don't stop it!"

She let out a loud sound of frustration and went limp. "You're an asshole."

"Save the compliments for later."

It wasn't long before they reached the first floor and he set her back on her feet none too gently. She grimaced as she landed hard, pain shooting up her legs.

"Now, Leese, I need you to stay close to me. That way if there's trouble you can get behind me. We're going to move fast and out the exit. I have a car nearby. Act casual."

"Easier said than done." She smoothed the jacket over her ruined clothes. He rolled his eyes and pulled the door handle.

The hallway was busy, but not chaotic, and no one seemed to notice them. It was a blessing really. They moved through without detection, Jackson taking the lead and on alert. If he were a dog, his hackles would be raised. It was strange to see him be protective.

It was oddly comforting.

He took her arm, leading her down a narrow hallway to a back exit. They went through the door without any alarms going off. Without anything really. She kept waiting for someone to come running after them. It was oddly anti-climatic after being woken up to see a dead guy on the floor.

"Almost there," he said.

She followed him, weaving through cars as they wound their way through a parking lot. It was fairly deserted at this time of day.

"What are we looking for?"

He pulled her around a pillar and stopped beside a sedan. "We're here. Get in."

She pulled on the door handle and climbed into the passenger side. "Where are we going?"

"To stop Charles Keefe. Eventually, that is."

"How?"

He slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine with a quick twist of a key. "With your help. As his assistant, you have access to files and documents that I need. We're going to get those files. And when we do, Keefe will have no choice but to try and kill you."

She sank back into the seat. "You're going to use me as bait?"

"You could say that."

"I don't know anything. I'm just an assistant. I make appointments, write schedules, and organize things. I make photocopies for shit's sake!"

"But you know his schedule. You know if he was in one place or another. You know more than you think. Plus, it was convenient. If you died in the car along with her, no one would be surprised. It would be tragic, yes, but far easier than if he had to arrange a break-in at your place where you'd be killed or a rape/murder."

"Your mind is a sick, dark place, isn't it?"

Jackson glanced over at her. "I prefer to think of it as realistic."

"I still don't get why Charles would want me dead."

"You got a ten year extension. It would've been too suspicious if you had an 'accident' so soon after all the media attention," he said as they merged onto a highway. "He had to wait. And now with the election coming up, his profile is raised. He needed to end his marriage and that presented a chance to get rid of you, too. Two birds, one car bomb."

Lisa watched the tree line as they rolled down the highway. Could Charles really be the cold-hearted, calculating man that Jackson believed him to be? Did he really want her dead?

And why today?

Jackson snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You still with me, Leese?"

"I just…"

"You still trust him?"

She nodded.

"You're something else," he said, shaking his head. "Get some rest. We've got a long drive ahead of us."

 **Author's Notes:**

Not super happy with this chapter, but it was time to get them out of the hospital and on the road. We'll be learning more about what Charles was up to and why Jackson has been working for him. It's a trail of breadcrumbs…


	5. Chapter 5

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Five**

He glanced over to look at his sleeping passenger every so often. She'd protested at first, refusing to rest, but eventually she'd been lulled to sleep by the motion of the car and her injuries. He'd known it was a matter of time.

Jackson suspected she was still in shock. He had been expecting it. After all, he had just shattered her safe little life for the second time. He was surprised she wasn't catatonic.

He'd been waiting for ten years to face her again. Thinking of her is what got him through his long recovery. Little Lisa Reisert, the mousy hotel employee, who had proceeded to kick his ass. She was stronger than he'd ever imagined.

Even his boss hadn't expected it.

No one could've foreseen it simply because the rape wasn't in the file. That made her fight. She'd been hurt before and it gave her inner strength. Plus, she'd been protecting her father.

It had been a shit storm. The entire job had been fucked from the beginning. He hadn't like the plan from the start—there were too many unknowns and all it would take was one tiny mistake or miscalculation for it all to blow up in his face.

Which is exactly what happened.

What started it all was Grandma Henrietta's death. As soon as Lisa hopped a plane to Texas, he changed his plans. It threw a wrench into his plans and shortened the timeline. He had no choice but to fly out there as well. To make contact on the plane.

Which meant he needed leverage. Her father. So he arranged for Joe Reisert's babysitter.

Jackson didn't anticipate her reluctance. Or resourcefulness. Or for the storm that knocked out the air phone. He hadn't planned for any of it.

When the plan started to collapse, it was too late to call off the fishermen. They were already waiting with the missile. It was going to be launched whether Keefe was in the room or not.

Keefe knew what time the missile was set to launch. He knew exactly where it would be aimed. He knew how much time it would take to get out. No matter what, he wasn't in danger. Not really.

His staff were in on the plan. They had to make it look real. That's why he had the children with him. No one would ever suspect he'd planned the assassination if his children were in danger. It was the perfect cover.

It also made him sick.

Jackson didn't have a choice. Keefe was the boss. He called the shots. If he started to get cold feet, it would jeopardize everything. He had to do the best he could given the constraints of the plan. No matter how stupid the plan was.

* * *

 _Ten Years Ago_

He slid into the backseat of the waiting car. The windows were darkly tinted which ensured their privacy almost as much as their back alley location.

He'd never met this man before. He probably never would again. At least not if everything went according to plan.

"You Rippner?" the other man in the backseat asked. He was dressed in a suit, tie still done up. His hair was graying and he was probably in his forties.

He nodded. "You have a job for me?"

"If you'll take it."

Jackson leaned back into the seat. "Enlighten me."

"I need you to pull off an assassination."

"Who's the target?"

"I am."

He paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "So a suicide?"

"No, it needs to look like an assassination, but needs to fail at the last moment. I need it to be precise in order to be a believable close call."

His brain was already kicking in and running through the options. He had to tailor it to the client and the more questions he asked in the initial interview, the less follow-up he'd have to do.

"I take it you don't plan to be shot at?"

The other man nodded. "I was thinking something flashy. Like a bomb."

"Depends on the location."

"There's a hotel I stay at often. It's in Miami, right off the water. It would be a good target."

"Could be lots of casualties."

"We can get the room changed to the top floor. Make it easy for you."

"Does your security team sweep the rooms?"

"How do you know I have a security team?"

Jackson looked at him. "This isn't my first time. Obviously a bomb would be found during a sweep. So we can't plant one. If you want a civilian location, the best plan would be a missile launched from the nearby water. If you're on the top floor, facing the water, we can figure out the range, move into position at the appropriate time, then launch the missile. Then on the inside, your guys can hustle you out just before it hits."

"Sounds good. I need it to play well in the media."

"Oh, trust me, it will. People love big, flashy high-profile assassinations. Even attempts."

"What will you need in order to make it happen?"

"Access to a missile, a crew, schematics for the hotel, and an inside man. I assume you have standing reservations?"

"Yes."

"Which means we will need a room change, once I figure out from the plans where to strike. That means I need someone to switch your room. It can't come from your team. I need a hotel employee to authorize it."

"I know just the person."

"Would they be in on it?"

"No. She would have the authority to change the room and wouldn't cause a fuss."

"What's the name?"

"Her name is Lisa Reisert. She's a manager."

"Good. Now, what's the time frame? When are you looking to get this done?"

"I'll be in Miami in ten weeks' time. Is that enough?"

"Should be. I'll get started right away." Jackson straightened his jacket and slid toward the door.

"When should we meet again?"

"I'll reach out to you as we get closer. Give you dates and times. If anything changes, you need to let me know immediately. I'll handle all the arrangements. Just make sure you've got guys you trust in the room with you. I need them to be in on it."

"Not a problem."

"Safe flight, Mr. Keefe." He climbed out of the car. As soon as he closed the door, it pulled away, disappearing into the night.

* * *

 _Present Day_

Lisa opened her eyes slowly and focused on her savior. It was strange to think of Jackson Rippner as a good guy. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. She still wasn't sure why he was helping her. It didn't make sense. Not after what she'd done to him in the past. How could he not want revenge?

And Keefe? Could he really be behind everything? Behind the flight and the bomb? Could he have hurt Sarah?

Did he want her dead?

Why? What did he think she knew?

 **Author's Notes:**

I will be throwing a few flashbacks in now and then to help bridge the gap between the flight and now. There will also be some shorter jumps, too.

Hope you enjoyed the glimpse of Jackson's past with Keefe. There's still more surprises to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Six**

"Where exactly are we going?"

Jackson glanced over at her. "When did you wake up, sleeping beauty?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Where are we going?"

"To stop Keefe."

She rolled her eyes and shifted in the seat. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Back to your home, Leese. Washington, D.C. Home of Keefe's campaign office."

"You're going to get us both killed if we go there. Don't you think that's the first place he'd look for me?"

"That's why it's perfect. It's an ideal hiding place," he explained, taking one hand off the wheel. "Plus, it puts us closer to the action."

"Right in danger is more like it."

He took a deep breath, clearly on the edge of annoyance. She still remembered how easy it was to piss him off. It had stuck with her all these years.

"Leese, you need to trust me."

"But I don't, Jack. That's the problem. I can't trust you."

"I will explain everything to you in time, I promise. But I need to focus right now." He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "And we need to get you some new clothes. Can't have you running around like that."

Self-consciously, she tried to fix her ruined clothes. It was useless. She would draw too much attention. And she smelt like smoke. Grossly like smoke. She needed new clothes and a hot shower. The order didn't really matter.

"I don't have any money. My purse…"

"It's on me, Leese. And no, I'm not expecting any payment from you. Not of any type, I promise."

"I can pay you back—"

"No. I should've gotten to you sooner. I wasn't expecting him to act today."

She scoffed. "Look, I wasn't expecting to get blown up today either."

Jackson smirked. "At least you're starting to get a sense of humor about the whole thing."

"Trust me, I'm not."

* * *

About two hours later, Jackson pulled the car into a strip mall. "Okay, now I'm going to go grab us both some new things. I need you to stay put and out of sight. I know you have trouble following directions…"

"I'm sorry, but I don't want you picking out my clothes."

"You don't have a choice. If you go anywhere looking like that, someone is gonna call the cops. You understand? Besides, I already know all your sizes."

"You — what?"

"Stop acting surprised and offended, Lisa. It's beneath you." He opened the driver's side door. "Stay in the car and stay low."

"Or else?"

"I will leave you here for the next killers."

"Well, aren't you a gentleman?"

He grinned at her and closed the door. "Stay. Put."

She hugged his jacket around her body tighter and tried to relax in the seat. He was getting on her last nerve and it had only been a few hours. Who knew how long they'd be stuck together? So far he'd kept her out of more danger, but it wasn't much. And it couldn't even begin to erase the flight.

It would take a lot to make her forget.

She stayed put, but not because he told her to. Lisa was tired. She honestly just wanted to sleep. She wanted to forget everything and wake up in her own bed.

But that just wasn't in the cards.

He was back at the car with a few bags in just under twenty minutes. He smiled at her through the glass and she felt an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.

He climbed in the car and held out a bag. "Ok, so got you a few things. Do you want to change now or later?"

"What do you think?" She snatched it from him. "Don't look."

"You're going to change? Right here? In the car? In broad daylight?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

He was quiet for a moment and she took it as a no. Using her teeth, she pulled off the tags for a pair of jeans and started to slide them up her legs.

"Don't look," she warned, even though she knew her skirt would cover most of it. She'd changed in the front seat of her own car before. The hardest part would be buttoning the pants and getting the skirt off.

"So, Leese, are you hungry?"

"No." She tugged the pants over her hips.

"Suit yourself. I'm gonna grab a bite to eat once you get situated."

"Then what?"

"We hit the road. Get a few more hours and another two hundred miles behind us. Then we'll stop for the night."

She unzipped her skirt and slipped it over her feet. She pulled a new shirt from the bag, yanked the tag off, and slid out of Jackson's jacket. She handed the later back over the center console before slipping her arms out of her current shirt.

"You almost done?" he asked.

"Just about."

Lisa bunched up the new t-shirt and pulled it on underneath her blouse. Then she unbuttoned the old shirt and threw it on the floor with her skirt.

"Can I drive now?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Great."

* * *

 _Late Afternoon_

She'd be lying if she called the motel they were staying in anything other than "seedy". She half-expected insects to be crawling everywhere. Then again, she was stuck there with Jackson. He was enough of a creepy crawler to begin with.

"Why here?"

"Why not? No one is going to look for us here. No one would expect it. Besides, I'm too old to sleep in a car and doing so calls attention. That's the last thing we want right now. Under the radar is the best thing."

She sighed heavily and laid back on the nearest bed. The only saving grace of the low-rent room was that it did in fact have two separate beds. She probably would have slept outside or in the moldy bathroom if it didn't. There was no way on earth she would voluntarily sleep in the same bed as a killer.

Not that it mattered. She was too wired to really sleep anyways. Her head was still running a mile a minute as she went over and over the past ten years. It was really more like fifteen since she had the misfortune of meeting Charles Keefe. He'd been relatively unknown then. About a year after they met, he became Deputy Director. And that's when things started to go downhill.

Now they had yet to stop going downhill. And now Jackson was back. Her careful, orderly life was going to hell in a handbasket and she couldn't stop it. There was nothing anyone could do. She needed to get her life back and sadly, Jackson was her best bet for that.

Why did she have to trust him of all people? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it be Mark? Mark was a good guy even though he worked for Keefe. Surely he had no idea what their boss was really capable of. He was an ally, even if Jackson refused to believe it.

Jackson had no soul. What would he know about being good? Nothing. He didn't know anything about people and morals. He spent too much time in the shadows and not nearly enough in the light. He didn't believe in the innate goodness of people. Sure there were plenty of jerks. There always was one.

Or in the case of the hotel, more than one. More than a dozen, truly.

But that part of her life was long over. Jackson had seen to that.

He'd been systematically destroying her life for the better part of ten years. She was never really going to be rid of him until one of them died. She really hoped it was him.

She needed it to be him. Not her. She had too much left to do. She'd fought too hard to live this long. She wasn't going to die first, even if it meant trusting him. Working with him.

He was right, after all. He was her best chance at life.

They just had to figure out how far the corruption went. That wouldn't be easy. She didn't even know where to start.

All she knew was that morning she'd been on her way to a charity event and then watched her life go up in flames along with one of her employers.

Now here she was in hiding with a professional killer. He'd never lied about that. She didn't doubt that even without seeing him in action. She just prayed he was one of the good guys. She needed an ally.

She needed to reach out to Mark. She didn't know how she'd pull that off. Her cell phone was long gone and even if it wasn't, Jackson would've destroyed it. He probably had one locked away somewhere that was untraceable. A burner phone. That's what they were called.

But how was she supposed to get her hands on that? There's no way as freaky and paranoid as he was that he'd allow her to make a phone call.

She would just have to get creative.

"Want to take a shower? Get that grime off?" Jackson offered.

She crossed her arms. She wanted to say no. That bathroom was disgusting. There was nothing clean about it.

But the idea of hot water and getting the fine layer of filth off her skin was oddly appealing. Against her better judgement, she nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Just don't use all the hot water." He smirked at her.

She snagged the bag of her extra clothes from their earlier stop and retreated into the bathroom. She closed the thin door and did the hook closure. It wouldn't really stop him or anyone from getting in, but it made her feel a bit better.

Lisa shrugged out of her new shirt before going to turn the water on for the shower. The tap was like ice when it first started out, rust-colored water touching her skin. She shuddered as it struggled to heat up. The pipes rattled so loud that she worried the shower might just collapse on her.

She unbuttoned her jeans and dropped them in a puddle at her feet. Her underwear followed suit as she tentatively stuck a toe into the shower.

Apparently, lukewarm was as hot as this shower got. She sighed and stepped full under the spray. It looked less rusty now that the water had been running, but she was still grossed out by the shower stall. If she had any other choice, she would have waited or gone somewhere else. But this was as good as it got for now. She had to suck it up and deal with it.

She grimaced and lifted her face up to wash the dirt and soot from her skin. She couldn't very well run around looking like a victim.

The water temp dropped and she turned off the faucet. Dripping wet, she jumped out and stepped onto her old clothes as she reached for a yellowed, scratchy towel that smelled it was last washed three years ago.

It was like drying herself with a piece of sandpaper.

Better than nothing. That was her new mantra.

Besides, she was a survivor. This was merely a bump in the road. If she didn't think like that, she might just break down crying.

 _Stay positive, Lisa. You can do this. You can do this._

After all, it wasn't every day someone tried to blow you up. Surely tomorrow would be a better day.

 **Author's Notes:**

Not much in the sense of moving forward, but had to lay some groundwork. You certainly didn't expect her to trust him right away, did you? Thanks for reading and please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Seven**

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

First, Jackson woke her just after daybreak to hit the road. His version of a wake-up call included a cup of water to the face, which left her sputtering and damp. He didn't seem to notice or care.

Breakfast was a stale bagel and lukewarm black coffee. Jackson's generosity left a lot to be desired.

They hit the road, heading north again. Jackson's plan was to slowly drive them back into the lion's den, where he hoped she could use her access to get them into Keefe's office. She told him it was absurd many times and he still refused to listen to her.

They were on the road for about two hours before there was a loud pop and the car started to spin.

Jackson barely managed to guide them to the shoulder and avoid a guardrail. After they stopped and her heart resumed beating at a normal pace and rhythm, they got out to see the left rear tire had blown.

Lisa was treated to the sight of Jackson trying—and failing spectacularly—to change a tire, all the while cussing.

He'd stripped out of his usual jacket to struggle with the tire, but stayed in his button-up shirt with the sleeves carefully rolled up. He looked very out of place on the roadside, dirty and mussed. He almost looked human. Almost.

After about twenty minutes and two lug nuts, she finally caved in and reached for the tire iron. "Let me."

"Let you what?" he asked, grease high up on his right cheek. She didn't know how he'd managed that since the shredded tire was still on the car. It was probably because their "rental" was a good twenty years old and five years past due for a wash. His hands were practically black.

"I can't believe you don't know how to change a tire."

"I never had to. I buy quality."

She rolled her eyes and jerked the tire iron from his hand. "Scooch."

He moved a bit to the side.

She got the next nut off easily. The fourth one was stuck so she skipped it and went to the next one. "Got any soda in the car?"

"Soda? Why? You thirsty?"

"Coke would be great. There's some rust and it's going to make changing it out a bitch. The acidity would help with the rust."

"How do you know all this?" Jackson asked.

"My first car got a flat on the highway about two hundred miles from home. It was an older car with hardly any maintenance done to it. I got the bolts off but the tire was rusted to the wheel. Turns out I was still running on the original tires. I had to call AAA to get it changed and that's what the guy recommended."

"Your dad didn't come running to your rescue?"

"I was in Texas at the time. It would've been a plane flight and then some for him to help me."

Jackson nodded. "You're making me look bad, Leese."

"That's my secret plan. I sabotaged the tire just to make you feel less like a man."

"It's working."

She smiled for the first time since this entire mess began. "Good. Now, soda?"

"Think I've got some." He went around the side and opened the backseat door.

She undid everything except the stubborn nut and waited for him to hand her a can of Coke. Sure enough, it worked like a charm and after a moment she was able to get the last nut undone. She poured some more on the back of the tire and waited.

Then, with Jackson's help, they wrestled the old tire off the axle and rolled it toward the trunk. Jackson lifted the spare out and rolled it toward her. They were working together as a team and it secretly amused her. It also helped that she was clearly the leader in their little project. Jackson didn't know what he was doing and it had to be driving him crazy.

Together they got the spare in place, lug nuts tight, and loaded the tools and the ruined tire back into the trunk. They were both greasy and dirty. But it was done and they were back on the road again.

* * *

 _Ten Years Ago_

"There's been a change in plans."

Jackson looked up at the board full of details he'd been triple checking for the past two days. "What do you mean there's been a change? What?" he hissed into the phone.

"My secretary called the hotel to confirm our plans the other day. When she asked for our girl, she was told that she's on leave for a family emergency. She's not due back until after my trip."

"I'll look into it. See what I can do from this end. What's important right now is for you not to panic. Do you understand? Do not panic. I have everything under control."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. It's why you hired me. I'll find a way around it."

And find a way, he did.

 **Author's Notes:**

Just a short one today. Keefe in the next chapter, which I plan to post tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Eight**

 _Present Day_

"How hard is it to kill one civilian?" Keefe hissed at the group of assembled men in his hotel suite. "She's just a woman! She's not even trained!"

His security detail shuffled their feet with most of them not meeting his eyes.

"She was supposed to die in the blast – they both were!"

Silence still filled the room.

"Really, how hard is it to follow simple directions?! You had a simple job to do – kill my wife and Lisa Reisert. Simple. They were in the same place at the same time! But, oh, no, instead you botch the car bomb and where was Lisa? Not even in the car!"

One of his team cleared his throat. "Sir, with all due respect, we've received intel that Miss Reisert isn't acting alone. We have reason to believe that Jackson Rippner is helping her. We're combing through the surveillance footage from the hospital, but it looks like he's been spotted there."

"Rippner was hired to kill her. A job that no one has accomplished so far!" he roared.

"Sir, we're trying to track her movements. There's a team already heading to her townhouse."

"The longer she's alive, the more damage she can do. She needs to be stopped. Now!" Keefe ordered.

His men nodded.

"We did receive a report from the hospital. Sarah Keefe has been pronounced dead. The PR team is preparing for an announcement later on today. It was quick and painless."

He nodded. "Good. At least one thing was done right. I'll prepare a few remarks for the families and the public. Send in Rachel, will you?"

His team nodded and dispersed.

Keefe sighed heavily and sat down at his temporary desk. He would fly back to Washington, D.C. later that night. There would be a funeral to plan and attend. His children would need to be informed and consoled.

There was a knock on the door before a young woman with her blonde hair tied back in a bun entered. He smiled at her sadly. "Rachel…"

"Oh, Charles, I just heard. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Rachel, dear."

"If there's anything I can do for you…" she said softly.

"Right now, just keep me company. I have to prepare a small speech for the press conference later. It's still a shock. I can't believe she's gone. I didn't think her injuries were that severe."

She nodded, coming to sit on the edge of his desk beside him. "Oh, Charlie…"

"And on top of it, Lisa's missing. She was injured in the blast, too, but they can't find her at the hospital. She's vanished."

"That's terrible! What's being done?"

He sighed. "My team is reviewing surveillance footage from the hospital, just in case there was foul play. It's possible that she's disoriented and wandered away on her own. She had a head injury."

Rachel nodded empathetically, coming around behind him to rub his shoulders. "I'm sure they'll find her."

"I hope so. I'd be lost without her. She keeps everything running so smoothly with the campaign and the travel… I don't think I could ever replace her."

"Well, hopefully you won't have to. In the meantime, I'll let the others know and we'll each pick up some of the slack. Keep things running until she's found."

He put a hand on hers. "Thank you, Rachel. Your support in this difficult time means a lot."

"Anytime, Charlie." She kissed his hand. "Now, you rest. I'll go prepare a few words for you, hmm?"

"You're an angel," he said, half-smiling at her as she wound around the desk and toward the door.

"I'll check on you in a bit."

He watched her leave before picking up his disposable phone. "Any sign of the Reisert girl yet?"

"No, boss, we're still looking. Chris is combing through the footage with a fine-tooth comb. There's dozens of cameras and multiple exits. It's a lot of stuff. We'll find her."

"You better or you're all fired."

* * *

"So what do you expect to accomplish in D.C.?" Lisa asked as the miles ticked by under their tires. They'd stopped and switched cars after the blown tire ordeal. And then changed cars yet again because Jackson was a paranoid motherfucker.

"I don't know yet. But I do know that neither of us is safe. Given a reason, Keefe will turn on me, too. He's just been waiting for the right moment. The right moment to kill you. And me, too."

"But you work for him."

He nodded. "I _worked_ for him. Not anymore. Though I did agree to hunt you down. He'll have figured out by now that I'm helping you. He'll have someone pull the video from the hospital. We'll be seen together."

"So what does that mean for us?"

Jackson shrugged, still focused on the road. The man refused to use a GPS. He started cursing every time she mentioned the word. It amused her to no end since he clearly drove a luxury car normally to go with his stylish suits. Most cars, even lower end models, came with navigation standard nowadays.

"Will he send people after you?"

"Probably," he said. "But that's because at the moment, he can get away with it. Once we start getting to the media, he won't be a threat anymore. Yes, he still has money and friends in high places, but one by one, they will turn on him and withdraw their support. The public will turn against him as well for what happened to Sarah."

She nodded, leaning back in her seat. "So we just have to wait him out?"

"For the most part. I still need evidence."

"What about the contract to kill me?"

"That helps, except it doesn't say who ordered it. I know who ordered it because he contacted me personally and offered me the contract plus a bonus if I did it in a timely matter."

"When did he call you?"

"The morning of. Right after the bomb went off."

"How did you get to me so fast?"

"Leese," he said, glancing over at her. "You were unconscious for almost three hours. I was already in the area, but by the time I made the arrangements necessary to extract you, and got here, I was running behind."

"Which is how that guy got into my room."

He nodded. "Now you're catching on. Good girl."

She rolled her eyes. He was good at getting on her last nerve. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it in order to piss her off. Part of it was his condescending, chauvinistic manner. He would belittle her and bully her simple using words, no force required. It drove her absolutely insane.

"So the question is, how much longer until someone tries again. If we keep moving, that should throw them off the scent. It's also why you can't call your boyfriend. They'll be tracking his phone just in case you reach out. You can't call anyone important to you. Doing so would only put them in danger. Do you understand?"

"I get it. But I don't know what you intend to accomplish by keeping me trapped in a moving car."

He grinned. "Oh, there's a lot to be accomplished. You know so much more than you think. Otherwise Keefe wouldn't be wasting precious resources and money on killing you. There's a lot that is trapped inside your pretty little head. I'm going to help you remember it."

"Why?"

"Because I don't plan to kill Charles Keefe. I plan to arrest him."

She paused. "Wait… arrest him? What are you, a cop? A crooked one, surely…"

He laughed. "Oh, Leese, you don't know how close you were on the plane. Like you, I am a manager, sure. I supervise a group of agents within the CIA."

"CIA? So you _are_ a spy!"

"Not exactly. I specialize in undercover operations. I was working on such a mission when we first met. My real name isn't Jackson Rippner."

"What is it then?" she asked, still trying to wrap her head around the entire mess. It seemed like a really lame joke. A bad joke. Just like Jackson to try and pull a crappy joke about being CIA. Like she would really believe it.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. It's classified, Leese. For me to know and you to speculate about. For all intents and purposes, I am Jackson Rippner. But the nature of my work is also why Keefe was able to tell you I died."

"Your company pulled you out, didn't they?"

He nodded. "Of course. I was a valuable operative. In fact, most of the police you met that day? They all worked for me. They were part of my team. Some of them worked directly for Keefe. There wasn't much in the way of real law enforcement. It's why no charges were ever filed. There was no scapegoat because Jackson Rippner doesn't really exist… plus the official record is that I coded in an ambulance and was D.O.A."

Smug, self-assured bastard. She wanted to punch him in the face as hard as she could. But being trapped in a moving vehicle with him, it wouldn't be her smartest move. So she swallowed her anger.

"If you're dead, why did Charles contact you?"

He frowned. "I… I'm not entirely sure."

"What if he knows that you're CIA? What if it was a trap? Did you ever consider that?"

She saw him purse his lips. He was pissed.

"I mean, honestly, Jackson he was the Deputy Director of Homeland Security. Surely he could figure out if you were an operative. All he had to do was ask the right people. What if he knew all along not to trust you? How else would he know to offer you the contract?"

"I assumed it was because of our history."

"Except if your elaborate cover-up really worked, he'd have no idea that you were still breathing. Right?"

A look flickered across his face. It was fleeting, but Lisa knew that look. It was fear. Jackson Rippner was afraid. But why?

 **Author's Notes:**

I was gonna be mean and leave it on Jackson revealing he was CIA, then I decided to be nice and give you a little more.

I had about three different reveals written out and I think this one was the best. Not to say that other elements won't show up later…

Hope you're enjoying all the twists and turns! Please review! Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Nine**

Jackson didn't say much on the rest of the drive, leaving her mostly alone to think about his bombshell. CIA? How the hell was he CIA?

How did that work? Did Charles know or at least suspect that Jackson was working against him? How had he known to contact him? How was this happening? And why was she involved again?

Lisa had more questions than answers. Far more than before.

She waited until they stopped for the night to interrogate him.

"So, the CIA… why are they interested in Keefe?"

"We've known Keefe was dirty for a long time, we just couldn't prove it. Nothing stuck. Guy's like Teflon," Jackson said simply. "We thought we had him ten years ago."

"You tried to kill me!"

"I had to make it look real! You were only going to be badly injured. It had to be believable. None of that would've happened if you hadn't fought me. But since you went to warn your dad and my accomplice took it upon himself to go after you, it spiraled right out of my control. I had to keep my cover!"

"Oh yeah? What about my life? Did you ever consider that? Huh?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leese, I'm trying to be honest with you. In fact, I shouldn't be telling you any of this. I could go to prison for revealing my cover. I'm jeopardizing a case we've been building for over a decade!"

"He was my boss and my friend! And you… you…" She shook her head at him. "You expect me to believe such a bullshit story? Just like that? What kind of a fool do you think I am? Huh?"

"If I thought you were a fool, I would've let them kill you."

She scoffed. "What a comforting thought."

"It's not meant to be comforting. It's the truth. Like it or not, we're in this together. We need each other. You know things about him and his schedule. Things that make you a valuable witness. Things that mean he needs you dead."

"I don't know anything!"

"You know more than you think you do." He leaned back in his chair at the rickety table. "I risked my life because I believe that. Do you understand?"

"No. This is all insane!"

"Sarah Keefe is dead. Murdered. You're the next target. You were meant to be in that blast and when you weren't, men came for you in the hospital. Those same men got to her."

"This is all crazy."

He nodded. "I agree. But right now, we need to help each other. I need you to trust me. It's the only way we get out alive and it's the only way to make Keefe pay for what he's done."

"What has he done?"

Jackson sighed, pausing for a long moment. "It's more like what hasn't he done at this point. He's suspected of all kinds of black market deals and forgeries. He seems to have an arrangement with a nasty group of Russians—and not just the crew I worked with either—plus the usual suspects such as money laundering and illegal gambling. It's how he's been funding his campaign—dirty money. He promises favors, scratches their backs and makes problems disappear, in exchange for a bonus. Sometimes he only gets scraps. But he keeps going."

"Why? Why risk it? He's rich."

"At first, it was the power. He didn't have much respect. Then the money wasn't quite enough for his lifestyle, his wife, and his kids. Plus he needed more power. That takes money. Money he didn't have. Now he could've gone to loan sharks and the like, but he didn't. He went right to the dark side. And he's stayed there ever since."

"I still don't believe you. That's not Charles."

"He ordered your murder, Lisa. He had his own wife executed. What will it take for you to trust me?"

"Try turning back the clock ten years. Then we'll talk."

* * *

She slammed the door to the bathroom to put some space between them. Unlike the last hotel room, this one only had a single double bed, the little kitchenette that Jackson was currently seated in, and the cubicle sized bathroom.

Lisa had every right to be furious with him. He'd lied and manipulated her before, threatened her father's life, and come after her with a knife. What the hell kind of cover was that?

She couldn't face him right now. In fact, she didn't know how she'd face him at all that night. It made her stomach churn at the thought of sharing a single bed with Jackson in a little bit. She doubted she'd sleep more than a few winks. She didn't sleep well in the presence of others to begin with. Even with Mark. Sleeping with a man who nearly killed her? She'd be lucky if he didn't strangle her in her sleep. And he'd be lucky if she didn't smother him with a pillow.

* * *

 _Two Months Ago_

They usually stayed at his place. But this time, she'd offered hers.

They had dinner at a nice Italian place. Wine. Candles. Very romantic.

He drove, having picked her up earlier. It was a short drive back to her place from the restaurant. She'd unlocked the townhouse's door and let him follow her inside. He locked up the door behind her as she set down her purse and keys on the hallway end table.

Just inside, he kissed her hard on the mouth, pressing her body up against the wall. That's where she kicked off her shoes, one after the other.

Mark tossed his jacket in the direction of the coat rack, only to miss. She would've laughed had the situation been different.

As it was, she led the way upstairs. Just inside her bedroom, they kissed again as he pulled down the zipper of her dress. It was black lace over gold. Simple, yet sexy. Mark pushed the fabric off her shoulders and her dress dropped to the floor in a puddle of fabric.

Lisa stood there just in her underwear. Black lace bra and panties. One of the few matching sets she owned. She'd started buying sexy underwear again just before she started dating Mark. It was originally just for herself—to make her feel sexy and desirable. Now she saved it for special occasions.

He whistled, just watching her for a moment, almost admiring the view.

She blushed.

He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a plain t-shirt underneath as he stepped closer, guiding her to the bed. She laid back across the tan and rose-colored duvet. She reached up, helping pull his shirt off, running her hand down his bare chest.

"Mark…"

He silenced her with his lips, pushing her down onto the bed as he unhooked her bra. She gave in, moaning as one of his hands trailed down her thigh.

She reached up and unhooked his belt before helping unzip his trousers. He groaned. Lisa smiled. He lifted her hips, peeling her panties off and down her legs. She helped him with his pants and boxers. He handed her a foil wrapper before tossing them on the floor.

Mark nudged her legs open. "You ready, Lisa?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He kissed her roughly as he entered her. She gasped a little bit, still tight. She always took a few moments to adjust to his size. He was gentle though. She appreciated that. Even if she didn't always orgasm, she still enjoyed the sex.

It was over rather quickly. He kissed her just after before making a quick trip to the bathroom. By the time he came back to the bed, he was just about asleep. She curled up beside him as he put an arm around her waist. While he slept deeply, she stayed awake, her body tenser than it should be.

She was too alert. Every little sound he made had her freezing, listening. Finally around three am, she slipped out of his embrace and sunk downstairs. She made herself a bowl of ice cream and sat down on the sofa with the TV turned on low.

She slept down there for about an hour before sneaking back upstairs and into bed. She slept fitfully until around six when Mark stirred. He kissed her cheek and padded off to the bathroom.

She slipped out of the covers and pulled on a robe.

"Mhmm, you look good enough to eat," he said, kissing her neck. She felt a few tingles.

"No, I don't…"

"You always do." He nuzzled her neck, his hands running down her sides. "Mhmm, too bad we have to work."

"I know."

"Once the election is over, let's go away for a while. Take a vacation. Someplace warm. Private."

"I'd like that."

"Good. It's settled." He spun her around and kissed her deeply.

She kissed him back, then pulled away. "I need to shower."

"Ok. I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

 _Present Day_

She stayed in the bathroom for over an hour before venturing back into the room. Jackson looked up from where he was lounging on the bed watching TV. "Is your temper tantrum over?" he asked.

"I'm going to go sleep in the car."

"No, you're not."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

He sighed. "Look, I know what you think about me, but can we just put a stop for one night? I'm tired as hell and I'm sure you are too. I'll sleep on top of the covers and if you'll feel better with a knife under your pillow, fine."

She frowned, staring at him. "What makes you think that I won't kill you?"

"You need me. And I need you. Think about it. I'm going to grab some dinner."

Lisa sat down on the end of the bed. She wanted to fight him on it, but she was tired. So tired of running. Tired of fighting. He was right. One night couldn't hurt.

* * *

When he let himself back into the hotel room with a bag full of fast food, the TV was still on, but Lisa was sound asleep on the bed. He closed and locked the door, before setting down the food. He crossed the room and pulled off her shoes. She made a little sound, turning onto her side.

He felt a half-smile tug at his lips as he covered her with a blanket.

She could never know the truth. There were some things he could never tell her. Like his name. Or why he really saved her life.

Some things just had to stay secret.

 **Author's Notes:**

Trust me, there's good reasons why we got to see Lisa with Mark already. And yes, Lisa does sleep through the night, even after Jackson crawls into bed beside her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Ten**

She woke up under a blanket with her stomach growling.

Lisa sat up slowly. She reached to her left side and felt some warmth on the sheets. Jackson had been there, beside her. But the sheets weren't rumpled. He had kept his promise. He'd slept on top of the covers. He hadn't touched her.

She glanced over at the old clock. It was after six in the morning. She didn't remember falling asleep. She didn't remember much of anything other than Jackson being CIA.

The door opened with a squeak.

"Oh good, you're up. Time to go. Hungry?"

Jackson held out coffee and a paper bag. She didn't even care what as in it at this point. She was starving to death.

"Thanks." She opened the lid and drank the thick, dark sludge. It was better than nothing.

"Okay, I'll be in the car. Five minutes."

And just like that, he left. No mention of last night or yesterday. Nothing.

And she couldn't be happier.

* * *

Somewhere in Tennessee, a few hours later, Lisa found perhaps the last payphone in North America. While Jackson was filling the gas tank, she slipped into the store for snacks and made a quick call. Despite the unknown number calling, he picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" Mark's voice said, nice and clear. It made her feel warm inside to hear it again. Screw Jackson. She had to trust someone else. She had to tell him.

"Mark, it's me, Lisa."

"Lisa, thank God. I was beginning to think you were dead. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine at the moment. Just a little banged up."

"I went to your hospital room and you were already gone."

"I know, I'm sorry about that. It just wasn't safe."

"What are you talking about? There was security—"

"I know about Sarah, Mark. I know that she's dead. She was alive when we got there. There's no reason for her to be dead. Her injuries weren't that bad."

"It was a blood clot. It's a common complication. Lisa, where are you?"

"I can't tell you. I won't even be here long. We're on the road."

"Who? Who are you with?" he pressed.

She tangled the cord around her finger. "I can't say. I'm safe. I just had to hear your voice."

"Tell me where you are. I'll come get you. You'll be safe with me."

"I can't. I won't put you in danger."

"In danger? What are you talking about? I'm not in danger. Lisa, please…"

"Mark—"

The line suddenly went dead and she whipped around to see Jackson, his long slender finger having disconnected the call. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked in that icy calm voice of his.

"I didn't tell him anything about you."

"What the hell—who were you calling?"

"Mark. He can help us."

"He works for Keefe! How do you know he's not dirty, too?"

"I trust him with my life."

He laughed, grabbing her arm. "Well, I don't. Let's go. He's probably already got a trace on it. We need to vanish fast."

"No!"

He pulled her toward the car as she tried to dig her heels in. "Stop being such a child, Lisa!"

"I'm not going with you! I trust him! He can protect me."

"Or he'll just kill you himself. No, not an option. You never should've made a call. Now they know you're alive and you have help. You just doomed us both."

"Or maybe I just saved us! Did you ever think about that? We need help, Jack. We can't do this all by ourselves. It's just not possible."

"We have to. There's no other option."

"You asked me to trust you. Why can't you trust me?"

"It's not you that I don't trust—it's your judgement."

"My judgement? The only thing wrong with my judgement is that I'm trusting you!"

He shook his head and opened the passenger's side door, all but shoving her inside. "Now's not the time. Now shut up and let me think."

He slammed the door and hurried around the front to climb in. Lisa huffed but hooked her seatbelt. He was already a terrible driver. That's when he wasn't in a mood like a two-year-old. Seriously, there were unmedicated bipolar people with less mood swings.

"I trust him, Jackson. Why can't that be enough?"

"Just because you're fucking him doesn't mean he's a friend."

Crack!

She slapped him hard across the face without warning. Jackson seemed stunned for a moment, but then he gripped her wrist, twisting it. Her fingers curled into her palm under his iron hold.

"Try that again and I will break your arm. Don't test me, Leese."

He let go and she pulled her arm toward her chest. She didn't doubt that. She knew he was a man of his word, no matter how terrifying that word was.

"I want to see him. He can help us."

He shook his head as they merged back onto the highway. "Not an option."

"What could it hurt? You pick the place. Please, Jack? He can help us."

"No."

"What will take it to change your mind?"

"If you're thinking you can seduce me, Lisa, that's not happening. I know you're not the type, even if you're fucking security man. You're a prude."

"You don't know me."

"I never stopped following you, Leese. It's been ten years but I still know everything about you. Every habit. Every little quirk. I know all about your relationships. I know everything. And I'm telling you, he's dirty. As dirty as a cop in Gotham City."

"Gotham City? What the hell are you talking about?"

He glanced over at her. "You've never heard of Gotham? Batman? What kind of rock do you live under, Leese?"

"I don't do comics and superheroes."

He sighed. "Basically it's the most corrupt city on earth. Much like Washington, D.C. Keefe would love it there."

"You're insane."

"No more than you are."

She shook her head and turned to look out the window. She was done arguing with him. He was just as stubborn as she was. There was no way either one of them would give up ground in an argument. Not this soon.

 **Author's Notes:**

Merry Christmas, readers! Now, if we were further along in the story, perhaps this update would've included some JxL stuff, but sadly, we haven't gotten that far yet. But this chapter does have one of my favorite scenes between them so far.

Enjoy and thanks for the reviews! Hope to have more updates soon – I'm still filling in gaps and rearranging already written pieces.


	11. Chapter 11

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Eleven**

 _A Few Weeks Before_

"How have you been?" Charles asked.

Lisa glance up from her laptop. "Hmm?"

"I know the campaign trail is rough. How are you holding up?"

"Better than expected. I am getting a little bit sick of flying to tell you the truth."

He nodded. "That's understandable. Travel is stressful. Everything will calm down after the election. At least for a little bit. If I win, Lisa, will you come with us?"

"To the White House? Is that even possible?"

"You're practically family. It wouldn't feel right without you. Promise me you'll consider it. I know it's a big step."

"How could I say no to working in the White House? To working for the President of the United States? Charlie, you don't even have to ask. You know the answer is yes."

He grinned. "That's the spirit. I knew I could count on you."

* * *

 _Present Day_

More miles ticked away, every one bringing them closer to a final destination. Lisa still didn't understand why they were taking such a convoluted route right into the hornet's nest. D.C. was Keefe's turf. People were looking for her. Why should they risk it? Why bother driving straight into trouble?

They were heading North again after a lunch stop. It had been mostly silent since Jackson caught her at the payphone. She hated the silence. And the radio in their current ride didn't work.

"Why did you join the CIA?" she asked, quietly, half expecting him to ignore her.

"I was young. Idealistic, if you can believe it. I didn't know any better. I thought it would be like the movies."

"Was it?"

"No. It was a lot of paperwork," Jackson admitted.

"Did you travel a lot?"

"Depended on the need. I speak several languages so occasionally I would be stationed abroad. Unfortunately, my expertise is in the Balkans. So I got to freeze my ass off in Russia and the Ukraine."

"No Spanish?" Lisa asked. She was by no means fluent, but no one living in Miami could truly get away without knowing at least some basic phrases. Having been in the hotel business, she learned a lot from both guests and workers.

"At least it wasn't the Middle East."

She nodded in understanding. A lot of foreign operatives ended up in the unforgiving desert. At least according to the news. "How long have you worked for them?"

"Since I was in college," Jackson said, no emotion evident in his voice. "I was recruited and never looked back. Hell, I barely remember my life before now. I had to leave it all behind. It made me a better operative. They look for people with no family ties. Family worries about you. Family obligations make you less willing to take risks. They need people who like risk. Who seek adventure."

"People like you?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"Why would I? I have lots of money, a pension, and good job security. I have no other life. No girlfriend or wife. No kids. Nothing to keep me tied down. I get to travel. Why not? It beats working nine to five in a cubicle."

"But you get shot at, right?"

"Sometimes. Usually when you're involved," he said with a pointed glance at her.

"You came after me with a knife!"

"Been there, did that, Leese. Stop rubbing it in."

She shook her head in annoyance.

"Look, my business right now is to keep you alive and take down Charles Keefe. In order to do that, you need to trust me."

"I still don't think you're being honest with me."

"Look, I already told you more than I should. This was all classified. My status. The case. All of it. I could go to prison for telling you."

"Maybe you should."

He sighed. "Look, we've been over this before. I was doing my job. Nothing more. It wasn't personal."

"You threatened my dad."

"And you stabbed me with a pen!"

"You deserved it."

"So you say."

She glared at him. "Don't push me, Jack."

"Why? Are you armed?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You wish."

"Look I don't know what else to tell you. We need to trust each other."

"I don't think I will ever trust you. Not completely."

He sighed. "What more do you want from me? To say I'm sorry?"

"That would be a start."

"Well, I'm sorry for doing my job."

She glared. "That's not what I meant."

"That's all you're getting. I can't say I'm sorry I hurt you. Or I'm sorry that Keefe chose you. I can't. It wouldn't be sincere. That's the best I can do right now. It will just have to do."

"I don't accept it."

"Too fucking bad."

"I need some air." She tried to roll down the window crank. It didn't budge.

Jackson pulled the car over on the narrow shoulder and she bolted out of the seat, taking in deep breaths.

"It's not safe out there," he said as she stepped toward the row of trees.

"We're in the goddamn middle of nowhere, Jackson. What could possibly happen? Hmm?"

"You could get hit by a car."

"Really? A car? That's the best you can do?"

"Get abducted by a serial killer."

"Already happened."

He glared at her and she stared back. They were at an impasse. She wasn't that surprised in all honesty. It was happening more and more.

"Fine. Five minutes and I'm dragging you back in here by your hair, like it or not."

"Fine."

She stomped away. The car door slammed shut behind her, leaving her to her thoughts in the mostly eerie silence. She was so sick of these back-country hick towns. She didn't know how Jackson managed to keep finding them but it was creepy.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to sleep in her own bed for once. To just be herself again. Not some pawn in a vast conspiracy. She just wanted to go back to normal. Her normal.

She wanted to get away from Jackson, who was rapidly becoming a part of her daily routine. He was becoming a fixture in her life and she despised it. There was no space for him. She already had a boyfriend. And Jackson certainly wasn't going to replace him. Jackson was anything but boyfriend material. He was her worst enemy. They tried to kill each other and they fought like crazy. They were oil and water.

They would drive each other insane. She could already see it.

She needed to go home. She needed to stop this madness before it consumed what was left of her life. She wasn't prepared for this. For any of it. She wanted to go back to her old life. To before the flight. To before she met a handsome stranger at a bar who wrecked her life.

To when her dad was alive. To when she was something more than a survivor.

She didn't know what she wanted but it wasn't this.

 **Author's Notes:**

Finally got my master outline done. Woo. I just need to stick to it now. Oh, and finish filling in the gaps between pieces. Hope to have another chapter up tomorrow!


	12. Chapter 12

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twelve**

"Has she been in contact?" Keefe asked, not bothering to look at the man before his desk. He didn't need to. He had better things to do.

"Yes, Sir."

"Does she still trust you?"

"So far. She doesn't suspect anything. She trusts me still, not him."

"Good. I spent a lot of money and time making sure she worked for us and not for him. I spent a lot to make Jackson Rippner disappear. Now he's back and they're working together?"

"It doesn't seem that way. She seems to be his captive essentially. She can't run from him because she's afraid. She's stuck. Scared."

"She should be scared."

"Sir, what is our plan here? If I can get her to come in, what do we do next?"

Keefe looked up. "'We' don't do anything. Your job is to neutralize the threat. Jackson Rippner has to be put down. Then you bring me Lisa Reisert. If she can't be trusted, you know what to do. I can't let a threat like that live."

"Did you know Rippner was dirty? When you hired him?"

"I suspected he was still obsessed with her. I honestly thought he'd be pleased at a chance for payback. I didn't expect this level of betrayal."

He nodded. "And Lisa? If she's working with him..."

"Then she has to die. You understand, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously then nodded. "Of course. My duty is to protect you from harm. If she's a viable threat, then she, too, has to be neutralized."

"Good. Glad that we're on the same page."

* * *

After her five minutes were up, Lisa walked back to the car and a waiting Jackson. She felt more relaxed, but only just. She really didn't want to get back in the car with him, but she didn't have much choice.

"You really think this Mark guy will help us?" he asked after they both climbed back inside and he turned on the ignition.

"I know he will."

Jackson flipped on the blinker as they merged onto the highway, once again heading out of town. No other cars were on this particular road. "You're really that confident in him? You have that much faith?"

"I don't need to have faith. I know him. He's a good person."

"Like Keefe?" he taunted.

She shot him a dirty look. "Yes."

"Hmm."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "We should call him. We need help."

He sighed. "Next stop, we'll buy another burner. You'll get five minutes, then we break it and hit the highway. If it works, we'll make a meeting point tomorrow."

"Why are you so paranoid?"

"You call it paranoia but I call it survival. It's worked so far."

She shook her head. "Still paranoid."

"I'm okay with that."

"You're something else, Jackson."

"You'll get used to me eventually."

"Don't count on it."

* * *

She resumed questioning him out of shear boredom. He also seemed more receptive to her probing while they were on the road. Perhaps he found driving to be soothing. She certainly had on occasion. Anything except flying.

"I didn't think the CIA could work inside the US."

Jackson shrugged. "We can't run certain operations, yes, but we are here. We still have agents around the country."

"I don't understand how you could be a government agent and still have gone along with that terrible plan. How you could try and kill me and my dad."

"It wasn't that simple, Leese. You have to understand that. I needed to gain his trust. I need to prove to him that I was willing to do what he asked."

"But this time you saved me. He'll know you're not the killer you claim."

He nodded. "That is true. I just blew an operation that we've been working on for the last decade. And I blew my shot because I think you're more important. I think you know more than you believe. I think you can help me bring him down."

"But I didn't know anything. I had no idea he was dirty."

"You know his habits. His schedule. You know more about him than anyone except for Sarah."

"And she's dead."

"You'd have been dead, too."

She shifted uncomfortably on the seat of the car. "But I'm not dead. She is."

"And I will help you get revenge, but you have to help me first."

They were both silent for a long moment before Lisa broke it.

"I can give you schedules, but that's pretty much all I can do. I was the secretary... the assistant... I wasn't in the meetings. I wasn't at his side..."

"That's... that's the key. If you weren't in the room, who was? You have access to his security schedule?"

Lisa nodded. "Yeah, I would have those. But he doesn't always use security. He often refused his detail at times. Mark told me that."

Jackson sighed loudly. "I guess we need your boyfriend, too."

She tried not to say 'I told you so', but she certainly thought it.

* * *

True to his word, they bought a burner at their next stop. Jackson got them back on the road before he told her to call him. Paranoid as he was, she couldn't refuse him.

She dialed his number from memory. Mark answered after one ring this time.

"Lisa?" He sounded so hopeful. She wondered if he'd even slept since her last call.

"Mark."

"Lisa, look, we're all worried about you. You need to tell me where you are. I'll send someone to get you."

"I can't. But look, I need your help."

"Anything, Lisa. Just name it."

She sighed, his voice soothing her. He used to always make her feel safe and secure. "I want to meet up with you sometime soon."

"Name it. I'll be there. I promise."

She smiled. "I'll call again tomorrow with details. I just want you to know I'm okay."

"Charles wants to talk to you."

Before she could reply, Jackson ripped the phone out of her hand and snapped it shut. With one hand, he snapped the battery and SIM card out of it. Without slowing down, he rolled down his window and dropped the battery. At the next exit, he tossed the SIM card. A few minutes later, he ditched the body of the phone, hurtling it toward the woods. He didn't slow down once.

"That was unnecessary," she exclaimed after the last piece shattered on the ground. She hadn't bothered to fight him over the phone. She either would've lost or killed them both over a phone.

"I'll decide what's necessary, Leese. I'm just trying to keep you alive. You need to understand that."

"He can't hurt me through the phone!"

"He can lie to you."

"More than you already have?"

He didn't respond.

"Jackson, he's my boss. He's going to be worried why he can't reach me."

"He wants to know where you are so he can send people to kill you. He doesn't actually care about you."

"Whatever you say," she muttered, still pissed.

"Look you might not care about staying alive but I do. And right now it's my job to protect you from yourself."

She did her best to turn away from him. "You don't know him. I do."

"You only _think_ you do. You know the side he shows you. Just like Keefe."

"And I suppose you know him?"

He snorted. "I know enough. I know his type."

"Enlighten me."

He draped one hand over the steering wheel and glanced over at her. "He tries very hard to be rule-abiding. The good guy. He always seems to do the right thing. He holds open doors. He's trying very hard to be seen as perfect. So no one will look deeper. So no one will notice who he really is."

"Which is?"

"He's not good. He's faking it to earn trust. So no one looks twice at him. It's the perfect disguise."

"Let me guess—you've done that before."

"Many times. It's great for espionage. People forget you're even in the room."

"Your world view is so dark and pathetic I don't know how you even get out of bed in the morning."

Jackson smirked, looking at her again. "I have your smiling face to look forward to."

She scoffed, her arms crossed in an attempt at disgust.

"I know it seems crazy, but that's how the world works. It's not pretty. It never is. Good people are few and far between. Almost everyone has an angle. It's just the way the world works."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Agree to disagree."

"I still trust Mark. You can keep your skeptical bullshit. I trust him."

"You're going to be the death of me," he growled.

She opted not to stick her tongue out like a kid, but it took a lot to resist the urge. He was practically begging for it.

No matter what he said, she trusted Mark. Until he proved otherwise, she would trust him. She'd already gone out on a limb to trust Jackson. She wasn't going to take his word over a good man.

She wasn't stupid. But she still had to figure out a way out of this mess. One way or another she would make it out. If Jackson helped her, great. If not, she'd leave him behind in favor of Mark.

Better the devil she knew than the one she didn't trust. And Jackson was most certainly the devil.

 **Author's Notes:**

And the road trip from hell continues! (Lisa's words, not mine, promise!) Next chapter we get out of the car and back into action. But hey, at least Lisa got to address the elephant in the room a bit – why Jackson, if he's the good guy, attacked her after the flight.

And let's be honest, Jackson is nothing if not a paranoid motherfucker.


	13. Chapter 13

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 _Ten Years Ago_

His chest fucking hurt. That fucking bitch had shot him.

She had no idea what she was doing. Not the slightest clue. Stupid, fucking bitch.

He lay there on the floor struggling to breathe while his blood pumped out and stained the wood floor. He hoped that the stain never came out. And that each time she stepped inside her father's house, she would see the dark blood and remember him.

She had destroyed all of his plans. If he died today, Charles Keefe would get away with his crimes. No one else would stop him. Not in enough time. He would continue to act unchecked, destroying more and more lives. All because of a stupid girl he had the misfortune of feeling sorry for. He let his feelings affect his judgment and now he was paying with his life.

She did this to him. Lisa Reisert did this to him. Stupid, stupid girl.

He already knew Keefe wanted her dead. He wanted her gone even before the plan went into motion. He was supposed to rig her car and tamper with the brake lines, so that one day, the hero of the Lux Atlantic would die in a tragic accident. A forgotten footnote.

Not if he died on the floor.

The sirens in his head grew louder as he closed his eyes, fury rising.

* * *

She didn't know what to expect when she arrived at the hotel. Quite frankly, she fully expected to be fired on the spot for the role she played. The attempt on Keefe's life was an act of terrorism. Homeland Security surely wouldn't take kindly to her nearly getting their boss killed.

Instead of reprimands, she was praised and viewed as a hero. She fought a terrorist and won. She foiled his plans. It almost didn't matter that Jackson Rippner vanished.

It never crossed her mind that perhaps that had been the plan all along.

* * *

He coded on the operating table. But he was too valuable of an agent to just let him die. They brought him back again. They plugged the holes in his chest. Fixed his throat, even though it would take months of therapy for him to talk normally again.

Some days, he wished he had died. On others, he wanted revenge. He wanted Lisa Reisert to suffer like he had. And on still other days, he couldn't wait to take down Charles Keefe.

After the flight, the man was a goddamn hero. His approval rating went through the roof. The people believed he was doing good work, or else, why would terrorists both to kill him? The man had practically bought himself a presidential run.

Jackson could wait. He could be patient. One day, he'd nail the son of a bitch.

And one day, he'd jump out and yell 'Boo!' at Lisa Reisert. One day.

Until then, he would struggle to heal.

* * *

 _Present Day - Washington, D.C._

They drove through most of the night, occasionally stopping for a quick nap at a rest stop after the incident with the burner phone. Lisa didn't bother to speak to him. He didn't mind the silence. He was sick of fighting with her.

Once they reached the outskirts of the city and changed cars, they stopped at her townhouse first. Jackson knew it would be bugged and likely under surveillance. But he liked to live dangerously, so he figured, why the hell not?

Plus she needed a sense of normal. Seeing her home would help with that. It also might help drive home how much danger they were really in.

He pulled up in an unmarked slot and started the timer on his watch. "Five minutes, Leese. Get your shit and get out. People will be looking for you."

"There's no reason—"

"Five minutes."

She slammed the door and headed up the concrete stairs to the front door. He'd been here many times before and sat in the parking lot, just watching the house. She didn't even need to be home. Being near her and her home was comforting to him. Soothing. A routine. A habit he never quite managed to kick.

He watched her wrangle the spare key from a flower pot—amateur move—and unlock the door. He stayed just a step or two behind as she reached for the alarm system. It was oddly silent.

Lisa frowned. "I know I set that."

"I told you we're not alone." He reached around his back and pulled out his gun. With a flick, the safety was off and he was ready to fire.

She moved behind him, not even arguing with him for once. He was grateful for the lack of protest. It made it easier for him to concentrate. He shifted his focus, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. Any noise that didn't belong to them.

And he was rewarded almost immediately with a loud creak. Someone was above them. Someone else was in the townhouse.

"Stay behind me," he said quietly, heading for the stairs.

He went up slowly, watching for movement and listening for more noise. It didn't take long to hear another creak – this time a door – to his right. Spare bedroom, if he remembered correctly.

Jackson made a halt motion for her and continued on. He hoped there was only one person, but with his luck, there would be two or three men. Just to make things difficult.

He turned and used his foot to nudge the door open. It creaked on its hinges as it opened inward, exposing a man. The other guy started to turn, startled, but he was already in motion with his arm around the stranger's throat, choking him out. He wasn't sure who the man was working for, otherwise he would've shot him. But he also didn't want to tip off any buddies he might have inside.

A moment or two of struggling, and he dropped like a rock. Jackson kicked the man's gun away from his hand and returned to the hallway.

Lisa was no longer standing where he'd left her. That damn woman was going to be the death of him.

There was a sound. A scuffle. Lisa.

He kicked open the door to her bedroom to see her sink her teeth into a man's hand.

This time, he didn't hesitate. He shot first, clipping the stranger in the shoulder. He loosened his grip on her, allowing Lisa to jerk to the side. Jackson shot again, this time in the heart. The man dropped like a stone.

"Jack…"

"I told you to stay put!"

"I thought it was safe!"

"For future reference, when I tell you to stay put, you'd damn well better stay fucking put!"

"How was I supposed to know there were two?"

"You… goddamnit, you're a pain in the ass."

"And you're not?!"

He scowled at her. "You could've died just now!"

"But I didn't!"

"Only because I saved you!"

"You…" He clenched his left hand, his gun still in his right hand. "You infuriate me. Do you know that? Do you know how much you get under my skin? How you piss me off? It's like you don't even need to try. It just… happens."

"And you don't? You think you're such a know-it-all but you're a cynic. You refuse to believe in people. You push everyone away. What do you think will happen if someone gets close? Do you think the world will end if you let someone see the real you? If you finally let someone in?"

"Your five minutes are up. We need to leave."

"Why are you changing the subject again?"

"Because right now isn't the time. Right now we need to be gone before they send reinforcements."

She got up slowly, her face sprinkled with the dead man's blood. "I'm tired of this. I want to stop running, Jack."

"That's why we're here. This is the beginning of the end."

"Is it really? I need to call Mark."

"Not from here. There's not enough time. Go pack a bag. Now, Lisa," he snapped, almost shoving her toward her closet. "And wipe your face."

She shot him a disgusted look. He tried not to care, but it stung more than it should. Lisa was a means to end. He only had to keep her alive long enough to nail Keefe. After that, she would no longer be his problem. She could hate him all she wanted. He just needed her to make it through the next few days.

Then he could finally leave Jackson Rippner behind in the past where he and Lisa Reisert belonged.

 **Author's Notes:**

It was time to get back in Jackson's head for a bit. I purposefully have been staying out of it for much of the story to keep the CIA plotline underwraps. Plus it gave us a chance to see him in action and his thought process. We do see more of his POV again in future chapters. Next chapter is a big turning point for both the story and their relationship!

The infamous chapter fourteen is ready to roll, but I'm trying to get a few chapters ahead still before I post it. I'm thinking in total the story will be around 20 chapters. It's all downhill fast from here, dear readers!


	14. Chapter 14

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

 _Ten Years Ago_

She jumped at every little sound.

Lisa knew in her heart that he was dead. Jackson Rippner was no longer a threat to her or anyone else. But what her rational mind knew wasn't enough to convince her fragile nerves to stop reacting. The therapist and doctor both referred to it as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They promised it would go away in time and lessen.

It felt like she'd die before she was normal again. She couldn't sleep at night and barely ate. She was falling apart at the seams, but still did her best to put on her people-pleasing face and attitude at work, while inwardly she flinched at sudden movements, unexpected noises, and certain smells. Her triggers made working with the public unpleasant.

She did her best to play people pleaser during the day, but at night, she let down her guard. At night, she stopped hiding behind a mask.

At night, she slept with a knife either in her hand or under her pillow. At night, she jumped at every sound. At night, she cried in her sleep or in the shower. At night, she screamed and raged, punched pillows and drywall alike. She broke dishes a few times.

One night, one really bad night, she nearly stabbed her dad. He'd come to check on her and she hadn't heard him enter the apartment. She'd lunged at him with the knife and he barely escaped injury. After that incident, he talked her into therapy.

Shortly after that, Lisa quit her job at the hotel. She couldn't take the stress.

Then, Charles Keefe offered her a job. And the rest was history.

* * *

 _Present Day_

She turned on the new burner and waited for it to start up. They were a few miles away from her apartment. It had only about an hour since they were attacked.

Once the phone was activated, she dialed the cell number. It was one of the few numbers she bothered to memorize. It was protocol to know how to reach the security team in the event of an incident. Should her cell be comprised or unreachable, she had to know who to call.

Being one of the leads for his security, Mark had been one of the numbers she learned. If they'd just been a regular boyfriend and girlfriend, she might not have bothered to learn his phone number.

Two rings and she heard him answer.

"It's me," she breathed. "We need to meet."

"Where are you? Are you safe? Has he hurt you?"

"I'm fine. Most of my injuries are from the bombing. I don't have much time, Mark. I need to meet with you somewhere safe."

"Of course, Lisa," he said. "Just tell me where and when."

"I can't just yet. I need you to be ready when I call."

"Why can't you tell me? You don't trust me anymore?"

"It's not you... your phone could be taped. I just... I can't trust anyone right now. You understand. I just watched Sarah die."

"I know, I know, but you can trust me. Really."

"Just be ready for my call. Please, Mark?"

"Sure. I'll be ready."

"Thank you. I'll be in touch."

She snapped the flip phone shut and handed it over to Jackson. He was already dismantling the phone and pulling out the SIM card and battery. This time he didn't toss them from the car. She looked at him, puzzled.

"What? I can't keep buying new ones. They already know that an unidentified number call his cell is you. They're already tracking us. I might as well save some money."

"I thought you were the paranoid one," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Practical, not paranoid."

"Same difference," she said with a sigh.

"Not even close."

* * *

An hour later, she called Mark back with a time and place just a few minutes from now.

Jackson switched cars in the meantime while she took deep breaths and mentally prepared to see him again.

They were in a small motel just off a main highway. Lisa had changed into her own jeans and a t-shirt plus clean underwear as soon as they arrived. It felt good to be back in her old clothes. Normal. A normal she had been searching for since everything started on the plane.

"You ready for this, Leese?"

She nodded. "Think so."

"Not too late to leave."

She rolled his eyes at him as someone knocked on the door. "Play nice, Jack."

* * *

Jackson watched her open the door for Mark. She almost ran into his arms and it stung.

Sure, they were dating. Sure, he was the good guy. But he hadn't been there to protect Lisa from his boss. He wasn't the one watching over her in the hospital. He never even showed his face.

Jackson had many reasons to hate the interloper, the least of all being that after everything, she didn't trust him. She couldn't.

But she'd outsmarted him. They needed access and records. As a member of Keefe's security team, Mark Abbott was in a unique position to help them. He wouldn't allow his personal dislike for the man fucking Lisa to color his investigation.

At least that's what he told himself.

She all but melted in his arms. Sappy, romantic nonsense.

"We don't have long," Jackson said, one hand in his pocket. His free hand stayed close to a gun, just in case. He didn't trust the son of a bitch.

"I know, I still don't know what I can do for you," Mark said. "But you can't keep hiding like this. Come with me, Lisa. I'll protect you."

"No, you'll get her killed. Tell us about your boss."

"Stop fighting, both of you!" Lisa snapped, standing between them with one hand on Mark's chest and the other arm outstretched to touch his.

Jackson lifted his hands up in a motion of surrender and took a step back. Lisa lowered her arms with a sigh.

"Look, she's safer with me," he said. "But we still need your help."

Mark scoffed. "My help? Why should I help you?"

"You help Lisa by helping me. What I need is schedules for your boss. Security rotations, etc. Nothing in the future, just ones that have already passed."

"That's never going to happen."

"Your boss wants Lisa dead. He hired me to do the job. The only way to protect her is to stop him. That's where you come in."

"That's never going to happen."

Jackson heard a gun cock before he saw it pointing at Lisa. He pulled his own gun and aimed it at Mark. "You don't want to hurt her, Abbott…"

"Mark!" Lisa protested as he pulled her arm, the gun aimed at her.

"No, Rippner, that's where you're wrong. If she won't come with me willingly, she dies. And you… you die either way."

"No!" she protested, struggling.

Mark backhanded her with the gun and she screamed in pain.

He couldn't take it any longer. He charged the other man. No one else hurt Lisa. Not his Lisa. Not while he was alive.

* * *

She watched in slow motion as Jackson charged Mark. It was a surreal reality, an alternate universe, one where the man she trusted became her greatest enemy. Jackson had suspected Mark and his motives from the outset, but she hadn't. She'd never once thought he would hurt her.

Now she could taste her own blood from where he'd hit her.

A gun went off, but neither man seemed fazed. They were both fairly evenly matched. She pulled herself up from the floor, watching a gun slid across the motel floor. She picked it up out of instinct.

Jackson got a few good hits in, but so did Mark. And finally, Lisa watched the tables turn.

Mark had Jackson pinned and in a choke hold. Both men were battered and bleeding.

"Let him go!" Lisa screamed, pointing the gun at Mark.

He sneered up at her. "You won't pull the trigger. You won't shoot me."

Jackson was slowly, still fighting, but losing his grip. He was running out of air.

Then Mark pulled out a knife and aimed it at Jackson's heart. It was too late.

Lisa pulled the trigger and the gun fired, kicking back in her hand as the bullet shot forward. Warm, wet blood splattered across her hands and face as it burrowed into Mark's back.

She shot again, this time striking him in the head.

He dropped like a rock, releasing Jackson. He pulled himself away from the fallen man, gasping for air.

"Leese…" he wheezed. "We need to go…"

She looked down at her hands. At the blood staining her skin. Mark's blood.

She'd killed him. She'd killed a man in cold blood.

If she'd hesitated longer, Jackson would be dead and Mark would be alive. For ten years, she'd wanted Jackson dead. She didn't even have to kill him. All she had to do was let Mark finish him and she'd have been free.

Except, what if Jackson were right? What if Keefe couldn't be trusted? What if Mark had been sent to kill her? What if it had all been a lie? She didn't have a choice. Not really.

She trusted Jackson. He'd protected her so far. She didn't have a choice. She had to kill him. Right?

Jackson pulled the gun from her hand. "C'mon, Leese. Time to go."

She let him lead her away from the body of a man she'd once cared for. Where exactly had she lost her way? How did they get here? Why now?

She followed Jackson into the car. Her entire body was cold; numb. She barely registered where they were, where they were going, what they were doing. It was as if she were floating along, not tethered to any one thing.

Then reality hit.

Mark Abbott was dead. And she was the one who had pulled the trigger.

She had murdered her boyfriend.

 **Author's Notes:**

Having PTSD and working in customer service is one of the hardest things you can do. I'm speaking from experience here. It takes a lot of willpower not to have a breakdown each time someone comes up and inadvertently triggers you. It's all very sensory and often has little to do with the person in front of you and more to do with the memory that they or the sight or smell or feeling triggers.

Lisa, having been shown to be essentially a pushover in the film, would likely react in a similar manner. She does her best to look and act normal, but inside, she's struggling. And eventually, because we are human, she gets overwhelmed.

Now, the fight between Mark and Jackson is one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. I've been holding back on it for a long time. It also shows the evolution of Jackson and Lisa's relationship as it is.

Next chapter deals with the immediate aftermath. It's already written and I'll probably post it in a few days. I'm already into writing/editing chapter sixteen. Since we got our first snow of the season today, I thought it was about time to let chapter fourteen out into the wild to blow your minds. :)

Thanks for reading and please review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Her hands shook as she turned on the tap. After a few squeaks, water started to flow from the faucet, but it did little to ease her nerves. The water lapped at her hands, running red down the drain. Blood, Mark's blood, coated her skin.

Eventually the water ran clear, but she was still coated in his blood.

Numbly, Lisa turned on the shower, slowly stripping out of her now ruined clothes. She stood there under the spray, not moving. Lukewarm water hit her body, but she didn't flinch.

The door opened and Jackson came in. He threw his jacket and button-up shirt in the pile with hers before twisting the water knob more to the H. He ran his hand under the steady stream, testing it.

"Leese," he said softly.

Her body shook under the warming spray.

"Hey, hey, don't shut down. Look at me." He lifted her chin. "Look at me, Lisa. You saved my life. What you did, you saved us both."

"I killed a man."

"He would've killed you."

"I've never killed anyone before."

He stepped closer, still half-dressed. He didn't seem to care as the water soaked his clothes. "I know."

"I… there was so much blood…"

He touched her cheek. "Let me. You'll feel better once you're clean."

"I'll never be clean again."

"Ssh," he soothed, grabbing a washcloth. "Just close your eyes."

There was nothing sensual or erotic about him washing the blood from her skin. It wasn't foreplay. It was compassion. Human kindness. He was the stronger one and he used his strength to help comfort her. It was merely routine. A cleansing of the body.

Jackson wrapped her still-shivering body in a towel and guided her into the bedroom.

She sat on the bed while he rummaged through their luggage and pulled together a set of comfortable clothes. One of his t-shirts, loose pj bottoms, and underwear.

With his help, she dried off and slipped into the clothes. He was still dripping wet as he helped her climb into bed and under the covers.

"Stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.

He nodded. "One minute, ok? Hmm?"

He changed into a dry shirt and pants before climbing onto the bed beside her. Lisa curled up to the side and he wrapped an arm around her. "Just rest," he said, softly.

She nodded her head, already subcoming to exhaustion in his arms.

* * *

He watched her turn silent. She was in shock. He wasn't surprised. It was common after a kill or a traumatic event for someone to draw into themselves. What had just happened must've shaken Lisa to her core. She'd truly believed in Mark – believed that he was a good, decent person who cared about her. She had trusted him and he'd belonged to Keefe. He'd turned on her. On them.

But he wasn't the one who killed him. Lisa pulled the trigger. She made the choice to save him. She made the choice to kill her boyfriend.

Jackson was lucky to be alive. They both were. He knew in his bones that if Lisa hadn't killed Mark, he would've killed her the second Jackson stopped breathing. He knew that it was their only choice for survival. But he also knew Lisa wouldn't see it that way. She was too deep in shock.

He would find a way to bring her out of it. She would see the truth eventually. She would hate him for it, but that was okay. If she needed someone to hate, someone to blame, he could take it. He would, for her.

He owed her a debt now.

And no matter what, he would do his best to protect her. He would help her get through this.

* * *

He rolled over in the darkness to grab the ringing phone, cursing whoever was on the other line. A warm body moaned beside him, clearly just as disturbed by the noise as he was.

He picked up the phone, hissing, "Yes?" into the receiver.

"Abbott's dead. They killed him."

Charles Keefe sat up in his bed and turned on the beside lamp. The woman beside him groaned, stuffing a pillow over her face. He ignored her. "What?"

"Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner are in D.C. They were nearly intercepted at her residence, but the team there was overwhelmed. She called Abbott for a meeting. He sent us directions just before. After he didn't check in, we went to the location and found his body. He'd been shot multiple times at close range."

Charles breathed, "Jesus. Are we sure it was Rippner?"

"Caliber matches Abbott's weapon. There was a struggle and he lost. We assume he tried to grab the girl and Rippner shot him."

"Assume nothing. We don't know if Abbott's cover was intact. Increase all defenses. If you spot Lisa Reisert, she is to be taken alive. Kill Rippner on sight. But bring her to me alive and unharmed."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I want a full update in the morning."

"Will do, sir."

He hung up the phone and switched off the light. His secretary grumbled, but he pulled the pillow from her face and kissed her neck to make up for it. She sighed and pulled him closer.

* * *

In the morning, Lisa woke to find arms wound around her waist. Strong arms. She felt safe, secure.

"Mark…" she breathed, then turned to face the man.

She felt her body tense when she saw the sleeping man's face. It wasn't Mark. She should've known it wasn't. The security and safety she felt, the uninterrupted sleep, it only ever occurred beside one man. Jackson. She knew that wasn't his real name, but she didn't know what else to call him.

His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep. He looked young and vulnerable in sleep. Like an entirely different man.

Slowly, she slipped out from under his arm. He shifted on the bed, still asleep. She eased out slowly, feeling the bed move as she put her feet on the ground, wearing his too-big t-shirt that smelled of him and very loose pj pants. He'd picked the most comfortable clothes for the moment.

Lisa padded to the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, she splashed cool water on her face, willing herself to wake up. She felt an urge to leave. She could leave him behind. He wouldn't even notice she was gone.

But where would she go? She couldn't trust Mark. He'd turned on her. She killed him to save Jackson, just as he'd killed to protect her.

Where would she run? She had no one else left except her mother and a few friends. No one except the man still sleeping in the bed. The man who climbed into the shower last night to help her cleanse the blood from her skin. The man who held her all night simply because she asked him too.

No, she couldn't run. She wasn't going to leave him. She still needed his help.

She padded back into the room softly and slipped back underneath the still-warm covers. She snuggled against him, putting an arm around him this time. And just like that, she drifted off again.

 **Author's Notes:**

Just a quick aftermath chapter. Next chapter will be longer.

Their little shower scene was another one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. It shows just how far they've come since the beginning of the story. We've got some more big action to come.

And since I'm trapped at home due to Snowzilla, there's a chance I might be able to get this story finished finally during the storm! Or at least several more chapters done. :) I'm about halfway done with the next one and the story pace is getting ready to pick up again, I promise.

Thanks for reading and please review! It helps remind me to update.


	16. Chapter 16

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

"Are you sure about this, Sir?"

Keefe tried not to glare at the young staffer before him. "I'm certain."

"It's just… no one's ever done anything like this. Is Miss Reisert a suspect?"

"No, Kyle, I'm just worried about her. I'm also worried the police aren't investigating her disappearance seriously. Hospital footage shows her with a man. It's very possible that her life is in danger."

"If you're sure, Sir… I will call the studio right away."

"I'm very sure. Finding Lisa is of the utmost importance. She was there when the bomb went off. She may have seen who killed my wife. We have to find her. Unharmed."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Jackson woke shortly after eight to find Lisa still curled up beside him. He felt the ghost of a smile cross his lips at the closeness. He didn't want to get up and leave her, but his stomach growled. He needed food and coffee, not necessarily in that order.

He slipped out of bed and tucked her back in under the covers. Lisa didn't move, still asleep.

He turned the TV on low and changed clothes. He would just run down the street to McDonald's, grab food and bland coffee, and be back before she woke. At least that was the plan.

"Jack?" she called, sleepy.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He inclined his head. "For what?"

"Last night…" she said softly. "And before. For helping me. For being here for me."

There was a slight smile on his face. "I wasn't going to let you die, Leese. I'm not a monster."

"I know."

"You don't need to thank me."

"But I want to." She sat up. "I want to thank you."

The TV came back from commercial break and Jackson glanced at the screen, which had a picture of her. He reached for the buttons, turning up the volume.

"…Presidential Candidate Charles Keefe is offering a reward for information leading to the location of Lisa Reisert. Miss Reisert was injured in the bombing that killed Sarah Keefe and has been missing since. There is reason to believe that she was the target of the terrorist attack, not Mrs. Keefe. If you have any information—"

Jackson muted the sound.

* * *

"What does that mean?" she asked him.

"It means we're running out of time. People will be looking for you. Police will try to intercept you. It also means that I'll be shot on sight. He's either setting you up as the bomber or as a victim. Which means I'm the captor."

"But you didn't do anything. I didn't do anything."

"We know that, but he has the power right now. He can tell whatever story he wants and it is his word against ours."

Lisa crossed her arms. "So what do we do?"

"Right now? I'm going to get some breakfast and think. When I get back, we'll talk about our next move. Okay?"

She nodded. "I guess."

"Just stay here and keep the windows covered. I'm just going across the street. Don't do anything rash."

"I won't."

He shot her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Leese. We'll find a way out of this. I promise."

"You have a plan?"

"It's getting there. Just… I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay."

He unlocked the door. "No more than thirty minutes. You can time me."

"I'll be here, Jack. I promise."

She felt his eyes on her as he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. It was strange how they had fallen into a routine in such a short period of time. It felt wrong to actually be alone now.

She climbed out of bed and scrambled through her suitcase in search of a change of clothes. Her outfit from yesterday would have to be trashed. She pulled out a clean set of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt. As much as she knew she should change into real clothes, there was something comforting about wearing his shirt. It faintly smelled of him, which relaxed her instead of repulsing her.

After spending ten years despising Jackson Rippner, she found herself needing him. He saved her life and then she had saved his. They were even now.

But she had no idea when her life would get back to normal or if it even would. Her boss had his wife killed. He wanted her dead and he'd hired Jackson to do it. And now he was on the news, offering a reward, and pretending to be concerned her well-being. All Lisa could do was count her blessings that Jackson wasn't on the news too.

And pray that he had a plan.

* * *

Stopping Keefe would be nearly suicidal. He had come to terms with that.

This was no longer about his job or even his reputation. It was about her. Lisa Reisert. She had gotten under his skin in a way no one else had. She had only been a pawn in the beginning, but now, after ten years, she was part of his life.

She was the key to stopping Keefe once and for all. She was the man's weakness. She also had access to files. And he had Mark's keys. He could get the evidence he'd been longing for.

Jackson also knew he was the only thing keeping her alive at the moment. Had they split up, she would've gone to Mark. And Mark would've led her right to her death. Hell, he probably would've pulled the trigger or pushed her in front of the Metro.

In a strange way, Jackson was responsible for the entire mess. He had been the one to take the assignment to look into Keefe. He hadn't balked at the suggestion to manipulate and use Lisa. In fact, he hadn't hesitated when he learned about her ill grandmother. He didn't stop to think when he chased her with a knife.

What he had done in the past was unforgiveable. Maybe she should've let Mark kill him.

Jackson shook his head to clear his thoughts. Lisa wouldn't be safe until he took Keefe down. And it would have to be public. That way Keefe could never hurt her again.

He would need help to pull it off. As much as he hated to involve others, he needed his team. They were the only other people he trusted. And somehow, he didn't think Lisa would approve of the plan taking shape in his head.

Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose a few hours later. "Let me get this straight. You want me to walk, unarmed, into a trap? A trap that Keefe is running?"

"Yes and no. Keefe won't kill you on sight. He has no idea how much you know and who you told. He won't kill you right away. But I need evidence. All you have to do is get him talking."

"He's not going to incriminate himself."

"He will if you insinuate we have evidence."

She shook her head. "Charles is smarter than that. He'll see right through me."

"I'll be using Mark's access keys to get files. I just need Keefe to admit his guilt. To admit he had Sarah killed. That alone guarantees that he's done."

"A fake terrorist attack?"

"Homicide, Leese. It might just be enough to get the rest of his deeds to come to light."

"I don't think so."

"I'll be just a few hundred feet away at all times. If you're in danger, I'll save you. No one is going to hurt you."

She paced a short line. "Your plan isn't going to work."

"It has to."

Lisa shook her head. "You're onto something, but it's not right. What if I could get Keefe to admit everything? The flight, Sarah…"

"That's not possible."

"He won't kill me on sight. You said that. What if I convince him that I'm a victim? He's already playing that card for the public. I can stage an escape."

"It won't work. I'm sure he has footage from the hospital by now."

"I will tell him I was sacred for my life," she said, which was in fact the truth. At the time, she'd been terrified. In the end, she had chosen the evil she knew over the evil she didn't. "That you threatened me. That I had no choice."

"And why didn't I kill you?"

"You wanted to turn me against him. You made me exploit my link to Mark. To try and gather evidence."

He sighed, sinking down into a chair. "This might work. It actually might work…"

She smiled a bit. "Of course it will. I will tell him everything he wants to hear. Then he'll confide in me and you'll get it all on tape. The end."

"We can't do this alone."

"Who else would help us?"

"My team," he said. "I can call them in for back-up. That way we can arrest Keefe on site as soon as he confesses. It will give us a chance to really, truly nail the bastard."

"I don't…"

"Do you trust me, Leese?"

She frowned. "Yes… but…"

"I trust them. With my life."

"I trusted Mark and we both know how well that worked out."

He ran a hand through his hair. "That was different."

She sat across from him and leaned forward. "How do you know that Keefe isn't controlling them? You told me that you've been working this case for over a decade. How come you don't have a solid piece of evidence yet?"

"He uses intermediaries."

"Not with you. You've seen him face-to-face, right?"

"Couldn't risk a wire."

"You were a witness."

"Hearsay. He was a powerful government official. No one wanted to start that particular war. Certainly not my superiors."

Lisa sighed in frustration. "This can work, but I don't want just any guys helping us."

"They're my team, Leese. My family. I trust them with my life."

She looked deep into his eyes. So very blue and sincere. She knew he would never deliberately put her at risk. Not anymore. He cared too much.

"And I trust you," she said softly.

"Good."

"Just… tell me one thing, please?"

"Anything," he said without hesitation.

"What's your real name?"

 **Author's Notes:**

Not as long as I had expected and certainly wordier, but there's some good stuff to come. They're at a crossroads now.

But trust me – you guys are gonna LOVE chapter 17. I think it will go up tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 17

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

"My name?"

Lisa nodded again. "Yes."

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I know hardly anything about you. You're asking me to trust strangers with my life. It's hard enough trusting you at times. I want to know your name. If you can be honest with me and tell me your name, I will trust your men."

"That's silly."

"This whole arrangement is ridiculous."

He sighed at her. "You're going to get me killed, you do know that, right?"

"Why would I do that?"

"My name is classified, much like my job. But, fuck it, I already blew my cover once, huh?" He let out a small laugh. "But I will ignore you if you use it, understand?"

"Why?"

"For all intents and purposes, I am Jackson Rippner right now. Telling you my name changes none of that. I'm still in the middle of a highly sensitive investigation."

"Fine."

Jackson shook his head at her, cursing under his breath. "Fuck it, fuck it all. Danvers. My name is Ben Danvers."

"You don't seem like a Ben to me."

He shot her a look. "And you don't look like a Henrietta."

"That's my middle name."

"No, it's not, Leese. I saw your birth certificate. Your official name is Henrietta Lisa Reisert. Your parents put the wrong names on the wrong lines and you never bothered to fix it."

"How did you…?"

"CIA, remember? I know pretty much everything there is to know about you."

"Right," she said softly.

"Listen, we're going to end this. You'll be safe soon. I'll find a way to get you back to normal. I promise."

She touched his cheek. "I know you will."

"You trust me now?"

"Who else do I have left?

He sighed. "You'll be safe. It will be a small team, handpicked, full of only men I trust. I won't let anything happen to you. Hell, I don't even want you to go back to him."

"It's our best chance to get in the building."

"I don't want you going up against him unarmed."

"I won't be. I can handle a gun."

She could tell from the sudden lack of color in his cheeks that he remembered all too well when she picked up the gun and shot him in the chest. It sent a chill down her spine to remember their fight ten years ago.

"I'll make sure you have one."

"Thank you," she said again, closing the gap between them.

"Anything, Leese. You didn't deserve this."

"You didn't have to save me."

"I know. I wanted to."

She leaned up, on her toes, to kiss him on the lips.

Jackson stumbled back for a moment, surprised, before he put a hand on her waist, pulling her closer. She moaned into his lips.

His lips crashed into hers and she found her back pressed against the thin walls. She should've protested but she was beyond caring. She'd been fighting her attraction to this man for ten years. She was bound to lose her grip on her sanity eventually. She was beyond caring about appearances or right and wrong now.

Lisa wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. It was so wrong to want him.

His hands were hot, pushing her shirt up to rest on her sides, pulling her close. She wanted his touch. She wanted more.

"Leese…"

"Don't stop."

He kissed across her mouth to her ear, then down her neck, causing her to shiver in a good way. She tilted her head up, gasping.

The name he told her seemed all wrong for him. He would always be Rippner to her. "Jack," she breathed, her veins on fire.

He yanked her shirt up, one hand coming up to cup and squeeze her breast. His lips pressed against her ear. "All you have to do is tell me to stop."

"Don't… don't…"

She lifted her arms, helping him to yank her shirt off.

He let his hands drop, gripping her ass. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her bare arms around his neck. He undid the clasp of her bra with deft fingers as he carried her over to the bed.

With surprising gentleness, he lowered her onto the mattress. She kept her legs apart as he knelt between them, following her onto the bed. He used his hands to rid her of the unhooked bra, flinging it over his shoulder.

Cold air hit her chest and she squirmed a bit. His warm hands cupped her breasts, his thumb encircling her nipple. His eyes fell onto the old scar.

One long finger traced the mark. "Who did that to you?" he breathed.

"I don't know," she said softly, not wanting to think about that day. Not when she was here, with him. Not when she felt desired and cherished. Not when she might very well die in the days to come.

"They never found him?"

"No."

He nodded, then leaned forward and she felt his lips on the scar. He kissed and sucked the mark as if he could pull the pain away. As if he could make it disappear.

She moaned loudly, running her fingers through his thick hair. Her hips moved, angling up toward him. She wanted him. She knew she should hate him; should despise him after everything, but her body responded to Jackson in a way it hadn't for Mark or anyone else. She felt alive and on fire.

Then one of his hands dipped down the front of her jeans and she knew she was a goner.

* * *

Trust. He could see it in her eyes.

She trusted him with this. With herself. She started the kiss. She responded to each little movement. She was practically whimpered and they hadn't even done anything yet.

It was enough to make him wonder about her past lovers. Had Mark bothered to try and pleasure her? To get her engaged or had he just taken what he wanted? Had anyone?

He pressed his thumb against her clit and she bucked her hips. Jackson tried to contain the smirk he felt on his lips. She wanted him. After ten years of wanting her, it was finally mutual.

He slowed down, dragging her zipper down one click at a time. She whimpered at the torture that had yet to begin. She had no idea what she was in for. He was going to take his time with her. Tonight it was just about them. No Keefe. No CIA. No tomorrow.

Lisa lifted her hips and he tugged her jeans over her slim hips. Light freckles dotted her skin and he bent down to kiss one on her thigh.

"Jack…" she begged.

He slid his hand underneath her underwear. "Hmm?"

"Please…"

"Please, what?"

"I need you."

He kissed her lips. She was wet between her legs, so wet, so ready. But he wasn't going to push it. He was going to savor these moments. He was going to savor her.

He slipped a finger inside her, tearing a moan from her lips. She was on the edge and he'd barely touched her. He couldn't help the smile this time.

"You like that?"

She nodded her head, glancing up at him. "More…"

He obliged, adding a second finger, stretching her. Her hips rocked against his hand.

They didn't speak for several minutes as he used his fingers to pleasure her. He listened to her little sounds, then felt her tense around his fingers.

She grabbed his shirt in her fists, tugging him closer as her orgasm hit. She cried his name out, her hips stilling in the movement.

He kissed her hard, swallowing her cries. She didn't seem to mind; she was just as hungry now, no longer sated by his hand.

"I need you," she breathed, their lips millimeters apart.

Her hands reached for his shirt and he sat up. In a quick motion, he pulled the cotton undershirt off. He hadn't bothered with a button-down today.

He saw her freeze, saw the questions in her eyes, and began to wonder if this was the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

In the entire time they'd been together, she had never once seen him without a shirt off. Not so much as a glimpse.

Now she understood.

His chest, which was virtually hairless and smooth, was littered with scars of various sizes and healing. Her fingers touched the two she'd left first – the gunshots from her and her dad. But there were dozens more. Slashes, like a knife. Small, sharp ones that looked like he'd been stabbed. Others that looked like shots. A roadmap of violence.

He sat between her legs, unmoving. Vulnerable.

She traced them, one at a time, seeing him occasionally flinch or hearing him take a quick hisslike breath in, as if she'd hurt him. The shadow she used to fear, a man she thought mechanical and uncaring, was really just human. He had been hurt, like her. He bled, just like her. He was flesh and bone.

Lisa reached for his zipper. He cocked his head at her, almost as if he were surprised.

She kissed his lips as if to reassure him, no words, and pulled the zipper down. She undid the top button of his jeans.

He still didn't move as she pushed his pants down further, seeing his erection straining against his briefs. She yanked both waistbands down, freeing him.

"Jack, please…" she said, grabbing one of his hands and putting it on her hip.

He seemed to wake up from his trance then. Slowly, so goddamn slowly, he kicked off his pants and briefs. He lifted her further up the bed, her head braced against a pillow. With his left hand, he tugged her underwear, pulling the cotton panties down her legs.

Her heart pounded in her chest, naked and bare beneath him. Vulnerable.

He stroked her hair as he moved up the bed, her legs spread to either side of him. Her breath quickened.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, no…" She put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "No, you're not."

He kissed her deeply as he slipped inside her, inch by inch. Slow and deliberate.

It didn't hurt. Not like it had with Mark. They fit together, her and Jackson. He cared about her, something she still didn't understand. She almost didn't believe it; that this was real.

He moved inside her, in and out, still slow. Too slow.

She hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him closer as her hips moved with him, adjusting to his rhythm. "More…"

He increased his pace, but only just a bit. She pumped her hips against him, trying to urge him faster. "Leese…"

"Harder, Jack…"

He thrust into her, filling her, deeper, harder, faster. She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. He increased the pace without any urging this time.

She was lost in the sensations, completely overwhelmed. She barely noticed her second orgasm building until it hit and she screamed out, "Jack!"

He moved inside her like a madman now. It should've hurt, but it felt good. So damn good.

She locked her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her hips moving in time to this thrusts. He groaned, and she knew he was close.

She knew it.

One last thrust and he came hard.

Panting and shaking, she brushed the hair from his eyes as he collapsed on his elbows, their chests pressed together. She kissed him.

"Jack… Jack…"

"God, Leese…"

He rolled onto his back beside her, panting as hard as her. She shifted onto her side, placing her head on his chest. His heart thumped loudly under her ear.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he breathed.

She didn't respond, already drifting off against his chest. She felt one of his arms wrap around her as she fell asleep.

 **Author's Notes:**

Worth the wait? I had notes on the outline that this was only supposed to be a makeout session with actual sex later and said, nah, might as well. You're welcome. This is what happens when I'm snowed in with close to three feet of snow.

Also, psst, next two chapters are written and ready to go... working on chapter 20 right now and getting closer to the end. Looks like there will be about 22-23 chapters, maybe as many as 25. I'm using my snow days to my advantage. You may all thank Snowzilla. And the fact that I moved a Zune charger beside the bed so yay, music. (Yes, I still use a Zune. Apple products do not like me. They don't. Microsoft and I get along. I'm using my Surface right now to write and post this.) So for the next few days, I hope to post once a day or every other day. Though, heads up, next week I have like three meetings to go to and participate in... which will cut into my writing time. That said, I hope to have this story done by Valentine's Day.

Thanks for reading and please review!


	18. Chapter 18

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

"You can do this," he said, kissing her cheek.

Back in her business clothes, her armor, she almost believe him. Almost.

She wasn't as confident as he was. Even though the plan was partly hers, she still didn't trust the others working with them. But he did. And she trusted him with her life.

"I'm scared."

"I'll be with you the entire time. I'm the little voice in your ear. I'll hear everything you do. I won't be far away. I promise. Just say the word and I'm there, Leese."

She closed her eyes, knowing he was right. It was perfectly safe as far as operations went. He would be right there and she did have a tiny earpiece in. A transmitter and a receiver, all in one. The audio was being recorded on a device in Jackson's possession. He had to stay within so many feet of her for the signal to transmit correctly.

He'd also given her a gun.

She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked right at him. "You swear?"

"On my life. I won't let anything happen to you."

She nodded, giving him a quick kiss. "Okay. I'm ready."

* * *

As soon as she walked into the building, she received an escort of concerned people. No one bothered to pat her down – she suspected they all had orders – and led her right upstairs. She could hear Jackson breathing over the comms in her ear and knew he was working his way through the building himself. He was stopping in the server room with Mark's keys to swipe some drives. She'd told him where the logs were kept.

The office door opened and she stepped into the room just like she had a million times before.

"Lisa? Are you alright?" Charles got up from his desk and crossed the room to pull her into a hug. Lisa stood there with her arms at her side, stiff. The door closed behind her with a loud click.

"Is it true?" she asked, avoiding his question.

He frowned. "Is what true?"

"Sarah. Did you have her killed? Did you try to have me killed as well?"

He took a step back and looked at her. "Have you been talking to Rippner?"

"Is it true? Did you hire me to keep an eye on me? To use as a pawn later? Is that all I am to you?"

He shook his head. "You have this all wrong, Lisa. Rippner has been lying to you. You can't trust him."

She shook her head at him sadly. "I don't know who to trust anymore, but I'm sick of the lies. Tell me the truth, Charles. You owe me that much."

He sighed. "I never meant for you to get mixed up in this business. That was never my intention, Lisa. You need to trust me on that."

She stared at him. "What business? What happened to you?"

He sighed and took a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. "It's a long story. There's really no good way to tell it. It's complicated and messy."

"I'm imagining the worst. Please, tell me something. Help me understand."

Charles shook his head sadly. "I made some mistakes when I was younger. Big mistakes. I should have known better, but I didn't. They have haunted me for fifteen years."

"What did you do?"

"It's not that simple. It's a series of decisions, each with devastating consequences. One of which being Sarah's death. It was not my idea to kill her, but they need me in the White House."

"Who does?"

"My wealth didn't come easily. I needed capital, especially to make a presidential run. I've been backed by unsavory types before. Most politicians are. It's part of the nature of the game."

Lisa nodded. She'd known Jackson had been trying to find links between Keefe and the criminal underground. There had been suspicions, but Keefe had covered his tracks well, usually by killing off underlings, such as Jackson's Florida crew. It made it hard to link anyone.

"Who has been supporting you? Have they been asking for favors?"

"Everyone asks for favors. For every friend you make, there's another one who is an enemy. It's part of the political game. There's no good excuse for what I've done."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with Sarah," Lisa said. _And with me…_

"The polls indicated that I needed something to catapult me to the top of the running. It was decided that a sympathy vote would do it."

"A sympathy vote?"

"Sarah. If she died in an act against me, whether it was murder or terrorism, the country would feel for me and my loss. It would up my status and gain me more supporters. It was a necessary sacrifice. The other option was my children."

"And you decided there was no other way?"

"It was decided for me. They wanted to kill my entire family. So I compromised. I gave them you as well."

"What?" Lisa asked, stunned. All this time they'd been operating on the assumption that Keefe was the one who wanted her dead. That he was pulling the strings. What would it mean if he wasn't the one in charge? What would that change for Jackson's investigation? Who else would be after them if Keefe wasn't the top man in charge?

"You see, they never liked you working for me. They thought you could compromise all of our work. I convinced them that having you close meant we could keep an eye on you. We could control you. And I proved that was true. You were a valuable employee, until they decided you were worth more dead than alive."

She shook her head. "Who decided that? You?"

Keefe sighed. "It was above my pay grade. I'm a foot solider. I carry out their plans."

"Who are they? Why exactly do they want me dead?"

"If you're looking for a way out, I don't know of one, Lisa. I am so sorry."

"No, if you were truly sorry you even wouldn't have dragged me into this mess. If you really cared, you would have stood up to them and said no. No to killing me. No to killing Sarah. But you didn't. She's lucky she's dead – she didn't have to see what kind of snake you really are," she said, shaking her head as she stood up.

"Wait…" he grabbed her wrist. "Lisa, give me a chance…"

"No. I did nothing wrong except trust you and now you want me dead. We're done, Charles."

"I know Jackson Rippner put you up to this. I know he goaded you into confronting me. I've been trying to figure him out all these years. I thought he would jump at the chance to kill you after how you humiliated him. Instead, he jumped at the chance to save you. How long have you two been working together?"

She frowned. "We don't work together. We're not friends."

"Yet you're still breathing when I specifically told him to kill you. How did you bargain your way out of that? I know you don't have the money to buy him off. I also know you were with Mark. There's nothing about my staff that I don't know," he said, smirking.

"Then you know Mark is dead."

He nodded. "A tragedy. I should have known that it would take more than one man to take down Rippner. He's almost invincible."

"Jackson didn't kill him. I did."

 **Author's Notes:**

Finally, we're going to get some answers. And it's getting bumpy, so fasten your seatbelts.

Also... I learned how to GIF. There's links to the two sets I made in my profile. You're welcome.

Please keep reviewing! Even anonymously - it helps remind me that people are reading this and pokes me along to update faster. Just saying... plus I usually respond to reviews, sometimes with little hints of what's to come. I will respond to all the anonymous ones by the end of the story, too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

He paused, almost thrown by the idea. "You? You killed him? You're a lot colder than I gave you credit for, Lisa. It's almost a shame you have to die."

She reached for the gun tucked underneath her shirt, just at the small of her back. "No, I don't. But if you cooperate, perhaps you won't die."

Charles laughed at the gun pointed at his chest. "Bravo, Lisa. You finally grew a backbone. I was wondering how long it would be until you just snapped one day. What a pleasant surprise."

"It's over for you, Charles. You're going to prison for a long time."

"No, you see, dear, sweet, innocent Lisa… I have friends in high places. Friends who will ensure that I never see trial let alone the inside of a jail cell. I can disappear. It's easy. No one will ever see me again. I'll live out the rest of my life on a tropical island."

"Knowing that you failed."

He shrugged. "It's not failure if I'm killed by a disgruntled former employee. You see, I have an alternate plan for everything. The police are going to find evidence linking you to Sarah's death. A note claiming responsibility. You will take the fall and I will be a hero who tried to stop you."

She shook her head. "You can't. I never wrote such a note. I won't write it."

"Not even to save Jackson? To save his life?"

She shook her head again. "You're bluffing."

"Am I? Are you willing to risk it?"

She flipped off the safety. "You have to be stopped. He'll understand."

Charles shook his head at her. "You disappoint me, Lisa. I thought for sure that would stop you. I guess he knew not to trust you. You see, Rippner was never fully honest with you. About who he is."

"I know who he is."

"Oh? So he told you that he killed your grandmother, did he?"

She blinked, her head tilted. "What?"

"Your grandmother, Henrietta. Ten years ago, you went to Texas to take care of her. She was ill, sure, but you thought there was more time. You were prepared to stay a long time, as long as you needed, to be at her side."

"And?" she pressed, her arms going numb from the weight of the gun.

"She died not long after you arrived. You had the funeral and flew home to Miami the same day because I was coming into town. I requested that you be there and your hotel told you to report in."

She shook her head. "No… that's not possible…"

"I needed you to be in Miami that day, Lisa. Without you, all those months of planning would go to waste. Jackson just…. expedited the inevitable."

"No… you're lying… she was sick…"

"He killed your grandmother, Lisa. You know what I'm saying is the truth. She had several more days, possibly weeks, left to live. Yet, she didn't. It worked out perfectly, did it not?"

She shook her head. "No… you're lying! Jackson didn't—"

"Yes, he did. He was hired to do a job. He had to deliver you. She was already dying. He couldn't let something like her lingering on affect his job. No, he wouldn't let it. It's why I hired him. I knew he would do whatever it took to complete the job. And he did."

She lowered the gun. "You're lying… why would you lie?"

"No, the better question is why would he lie to you? What does he have to gain by having you on his side? Hmm?" Charles pressed. "Why wouldn't he do his job and just kill you like I asked?"

She took a step away, keeping the gun in hand. "No, there has to be another explanation. He wouldn't…"

"He's a killer. You've seen it. Yet you persist in trusting him over me. Why is that?"

"He's more than that."

"You fell for him. For that smooth charm." Charles laughed. "Let me guess, you love him?"

"No."

"That's exactly what happened, isn't it? You fell in love with a killer… and now you trust him. Your trust in him will be your ruin, Lisa. I gave you a way out. All you have to do is put down the gun and accept that you're the reason Sarah is dead."

"No… I know what happens. The moment I'm sent to prison, I die. There would never be a trial. Someone would kill me in jail, wouldn't they?"

He smirked. "Perhaps. Or maybe you would live out what remained of your life behind bars."

She shook her head at him, raising the gun. "I'm not going to prison for a crime I didn't commit."

"You don't have a choice. It's that or you die a painful death. What would that do to your poor mother? Your friends? Hmm?"

She aimed the gun level with his chest. "No, I'm not dying today. Or tomorrow. I'm going to take them all down."

"You and what army?"

The door swung open and in stormed five men in tactical gear. Jackson brought up the front, a flak jacket over his button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had a gun in hand as well, which he lowered a bit.

"That army," she breathed, still keeping her gun trained on him.

Jackson came to her side. "Did you get everything?" he asked her.

She nodded. "He admitted some stuff. He claims to be working for someone else."

He nodded. "I suspected as much. Well, Keefe, if you roll on your boss, this will all go much smoother for everyone involved."

"Not for her." He said, glancing at Lisa. "They'll come for you. He can't protect you. No one can."

"Who? Huh? Who is gonna come for me?"

"They all will," he said as one of the agents came around to handcuff him. "You really think that I don't have allies in your organization? Why do you think it took so long to catch me?"

Jackson frowned, motioning for Lisa to step back behind him.

"He's lying," she said.

"What if I'm not? Did you ever think to consider that?"

"Nice try, Keefe. We've got a nice cell all picked out for you already."

"Do you?"

Four guns turned, all trained on the pair. Jackson nudged her fully behind him, his gun cocked and aimed right at Keefe.

"Jack…" she breathed, still gripping her gun.

"All it takes is one bullet," Keefe said, rubbing his wrists in front of him, no handcuffs in sight. "Do you think anyone will miss you, Rippner? Oh, I'm sorry, do you prefer Agent Danvers? I know exactly who you are."

She felt his muscles stiffen. "Stay behind me, Leese."

"You always suspected there were moles in the department, didn't you? What you didn't account for is that I own the department. I own the entire CIA. Why do you think all of your evidence vanished? Why your witnesses disappeared? I used to run Homeland… do you really think I wouldn't know what you were up to? That I wouldn't know someone was building a case against me? I'm not that stupid, Danvers. It's just a shame you have to involve her."

Lisa shook her head. "He didn't get me into this – you did."

"Oh, Lisa, I dearly wish I had the time to explain this all to you. I do. But, unfortunately, I don't. It's time for you and him to go away."

 **Author's Notes:**

Hehehe, yes, cliffie again because I'm mean like that.

I'm nearing the end of the next chapter, which should be up by the end of the weekend or Monday night. Still thinking the whole story will be around 23 chapters... maybe as many as 25. I'm hoping to sit down and get a bunch written on Sunday. This month is one meeting after the other for me, so I'm trying to get ahead. Just remember that reviews help push me to write faster and also to update.

Thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty**

He shoved her toward the door hard. "Run!"

Lisa nearly lost her balance and the gun as she bolted. She heard the guns firing at them just behind her. She could hear Jackson breathing as he ran behind her, firing off rounds of his own. Her heart pounded in her chest, pure adrenaline fueling her.

He grabbed her arm, guiding her around a corner.

She went with him easily, curving to turn with him, still sprinting. They were in sync running together.

"Where…?" she panted.

"Car…"

They hit the stairs, skipping steps as they went down and round, almost crashing into each other as the door above them swung open.

Crack! Crack!

Dust spat at them as bullets crashed into drywall. She threw up an arm to shield her face as they ran, not stopping to fire back. Jackson grabbed her wrist as he yanked open the last door to the ground floor.

They hit the lobby, bolting across the tile floor for the front doors. Toward freedom.

Crack!

He let go of her arm and she spun around, nearly falling as she stopped to look back. "Jack!"

He was down, blood running down his leg from a hole in the thigh. That's when she finally noticed that wasn't the only hole. He had blood running down his arm from where a bullet had clipped him. He had taken a chance, throwing her first. He'd given her a chance at life.

"Run!" he hollered at her, his gun in hand. He aimed back at their pursuers.

She looked over her shoulder at the glass doors. They were so close. So close to freedom. It was just out of reach.

She shook her head and checked her gun. "I'm not going without you. We're in this together."

"Don't be stupid, Leese."

"I'm not. I'm sick of running. We're in this together. I'm not going without you. I'm done running. There's nowhere left to run. No one to trust."

"That's not true."

She shook her head. "Your entire team just turned on you."

"There's no time. Run, Leese. For me."

"No. Stop being stubborn. We're in this together. Now don't make me shoot you."

He shook his head, pulling himself into a better position. "We're gonna die."

"You don't know that for sure."

"What are you…?"

The stairway door opened and Lisa fired, clipping a fire extinguisher as two men stormed the hallway. The pressurized canister exploded.

Jackson looked at her, impressed. "Where did you learn that?"

"It's not important. That's two."

He shook his head. "You're something else."

"C'mon… let's get you up." She reached down to pull him to his feet. He grunted, his shot leg leaving a blood trail.

"I'm just gonna slow you down."

"I told you – I'm done running. This is the end of the road. The final battle."

"Do you really think killing Keefe will end this?"

"No, not at all. But I'm not going to sit here and wait to die. I have to do something. I have to stop him. That will at least stop his employers."

"They could be anyone."

"Well, they won't have a presidential candidate in their pocket anymore."

He shook his head. "I can't believe you. You're insane."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. Wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

Jackson took care of the third person pursuing them with a shot to the head as they crossed the parking lot. It was astonishing how good he was with a gun.

"I thought you hated guns."

"They're messy and unnecessary," he said. "But I don't feel like gutting anyone except Keefe today."

She smiled at him. "I agree."

"Glad to know we're on the same page for once."

"Who could he be working for? Who is powerful enough to have moles in the CIA? Multiple moles?"

"There's only one person who knew I was working on this operation. Only one person who would know both my cover identity and my real one. It's common practice to protect undercovers."

"Who?"

He looked at her solemnly as she drove. "My boss, Gerald Cooper. He's the deputy director of the CIA."

She stared at him. "The entire CIA?"

"Pretty much. He would have the access."

"But why would he put you on the case if he's the person behind Keefe?"

"Probably he wanted to put Keefe out to dry if necessary. Sacrificial pawn and all that. He probably never expected me to track it all the way back to the source. We're lucky that he has loose lips." Jackson smirked at her.

"But how do we stop the director of the CIA? Is that even possible?"

"There's oversight committees."

"Keefe won't testify."

"He doesn't have to. You have it all on tape. We have him, Leese. Keefe just broke it all down. He's done for."

She looked at him, at his pale face. He'd lost a lot of blood. "Jack, we need to get you to a doctor."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No doctor. I can't be a sitting duck."

"You're bleeding… you're really bleeding."

His shoulder didn't seem to be actively bleeding, not like his leg. His leg was oozing, the fabric of his pants stained with his blood, more and more with each passing moment. He was in bad shape and she didn't know what to do. Or where to go. She just knew she couldn't watch him die.

"It's not as bad as it looks. If it had clipped an artery, I'd already be dead."

"That's… comforting," she lied.

"Leese, I know it doesn't seem like it, but I've actually been through worse. A lot worse."

"You can't keep bleeding… we need… something…"

He put his hand on her leg. "I have a place nearby. There's supplies there. You can help me."

"Help with what?"

"Get the bullet out of my leg. I can feel it moving around. It will have to come out."

"Out? You want me to pull a bullet out of your leg?"

"And stitch up my shoulder."

"Are you insane? Did you hit your head? I'm not a doctor, or a nurse…" she protested, paling as they drove further away from Keefe. They were still in D.C., pretty much driving in circles. She didn't know where to go.

"I trust you. That's the important thing. I will talk you through this—take a right up here, at the light," he said, his voice calm and even.

She flipped on the blinker and followed his direction. "What if I screw it up? Make it worse?"

"You won't. I'll be right here. I just can't… not with my arm. It'll be better if you do it."

"And if you die?"

"Left past that, yeah, past that car, good—I'm not gonna die, Lisa. I'm not. I promise. You and me, we're going to get through this. We have the evidence. And as soon as we get things together, we're taking down Keefe."

"I think… I think we have to go public."

"Public? With what?"

She stole a glance at him. "With his own words. Get it out to the media. Then the CIA or anyone else can't stop it. Get it out to the public."

"You do realize that's basically suicide?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"Two more rights and then the garage on the left. I'll tell you the passcode when we get there," he said quietly.

"Ok… where exactly are we going?"

"A safe place that I set up a long time ago. Don't worry, the CIA doesn't even know it exists. We'll be safe."

"We have to expose him."

"I know."

"It's our best chance."

"I know."

She sighed. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

They made the first right turn.

"What do you want me to say? This is my mess, Leese. My boss, my job, my mess. But you… you're the one who's getting hurt. And you're the only one who can go public. And there's a good chance I'll lose you."

"And?"

"And I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either. Which is why we should see a doctor—"

"Right turn here."

She cursed under her breath, turning the car on a dime, causing another driver to honk at them. She ignored him.

"Can we… talk about this…?"

"Later. We're here."

"Where's here?"

"My safe place," he said quietly. "Where I lived before this all started. Before Keefe. Before the CIA. Before I became Agent Danvers."

 **Author's Notes:**

Sorry for the long wait – I've been ill so I haven't been writing. I've got a few pieces of the next two chapters in progress so hopefully I can get another chapter up over the weekend, maybe two. We're closing in on the end!

Please review! It helps keep me going.


	21. Chapter 21

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty-one**

He told her the passcode, which allowed them into the garage. He directed her to a marked spot where she parked the stolen car. He leaned on her heavily as they moved across the lot to an elevator. It was slow going as the adrenaline that originally fueled them both wore off.

"You said this was before you were CIA. Wouldn't they know who you were?"

"They would if the Ben Danvers they recruited in college was the real me," he said with a grin, pressing the button for the Penthouse. "But he wasn't."

"Who was?'

"It's a long story, but I reinvented myself before college. I separated myself from who I was and who I would be."

Lisa frowned as the doors opened. He entered a code just outside the elevator and a wall slid open.

They were inside a luxurious apartment. How could this be a safe place? How could he afford any of this? Who was he? Every time she thought she knew who Jackson Rippner really was, he threw her another curveball. Working for Keefe. But really working for the CIA to stop Keefe. Now this?

"My name really is Ben," he said softly as she helped him to a chair. "It's my last name that's a bit more complicated."

"We need to fix your leg."

"There's a kit down the hall, second door on the left. Under the sink."

She nodded, hurrying down the wide hallway. The apartment had lots of windows, lots of natural light. It didn't seem like somewhere that Jackson would live. Hell, the chair he was bleeding in probably cost two grand.

She found the kit with ease. The bathroom was spotless. Either he had a really good maid or no one ever used the room. But there also wasn't a speck of dust in sight.

Lisa hurried back to him and unlatched the massive box. It was full to the brim of cleaning fluids, bandages, gauze, and many other things she didn't recognize at first glance, including syringes. Jackson grabbed a few items and tossed them at her.

"It's already sterile. Put on a pair of gloves, yeah, those," he directed, while using scissors to widen the hole in his pants. He clipped the fabric away from the wound with minimal hissing.

"I don't know what to do."

"I can talk you through it. Don't worry."

She took a deep breath and opened the cleanser first. She cleaned the edges of the bullet wound under his direction, clearing the field of vision from blood and also helping sterilize his leg.

"That's good. Now, you need to find the bullet so you can close it up."

She looked up at him, shaking her head. "I can't…"

"You can, Leese."

"What if I mess it up? You could die!"

"I won't. You can do this. Just listen to me."

She nodded, still uncertain. "Okay."

"Deep breathes, in and out. Good. Now, it's not very deep, you'll have to feel for it. You're not going to hurt me, I promise. Fingers first."

She pushed a gloved finger into the wound, flinching at the feel. He tensed.

"Almost, more to the left. Feel it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, now, grab the forceps. You want to clamp down on the bullet and pull it out."

She followed his directions, getting a tight grip on the metallic object lodged in his thigh. She still wasn't sure why the bullet hadn't torn through his leg, but she guessed it was good that it hadn't.

"Pull, Leese."

She did and he dug his fingers into the chair, trying to hold still. He was paler now, whether it was from pain or blood loss, she didn't know.

"Okay, it's out… it's out… holy shit…" she muttered, staring at the bullet in her hand now.

"Clean the wound again… yeah, fuck that burns, don't stop…"

She tossed the blood-streaked pad to the floor beside the other debris from cleaning. "Now what?"

"You have to stitch it up. Thread, needle. I'm going to do my best to stay still. Don't worry – it doesn't have to be pretty."

"I don't—"

"You just dug a bullet out. I think you can handle stitches."

She changed to clean pair of gloves and threaded the needle. "This is so messed up."

"You can do it."

She began to push the needle through his skin, pulling along the black thread behind it. Her stitches were sloppy, but she was closing the gap between the skin, even as he hissed and jerked. "Earlier, you said you weren't Ben Danvers…"

He sucked in a breath, then answered, "Yeah, he's me, but I wasn't always Ben Danvers."

"So who are you then?"

"My family...my mother, really, is obscenely wealthy. I wanted to be my own person. So I changed my identity. Kept my first name and adopted the last name of my childhood nanny. My college took the money to look the other way. I got a new social security number, new birth certificate - everything I needed to look legitimate. That's who the CIA approached, not the real me."

Lisa nodded, still skeptical, as she continued with the stitches. "And the old you?"

"As far as the rest of the world knows, Benjamin T. Wallace the Third died in a plane crash at the age of twenty-two. This place belongs to his mother. Then again, mother has about thirty different places around the world. No one keeps track of which ones she stays at."

"But your mother—"

"She knows I'm alive, Leese. I'm not a monster. But she also knows Ben Wallace can't exist. That he's dead. She understands that her son is dead and that when he can, Ben Danvers visits."

She tied off the stitches and snipped the thread short.

"So who are you right now?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "Just Ben, I guess."

"I still can't think of you as Ben."

"Then you can keep calling me Jack."

Lisa nodded. "Okay, Jack. Ready for me to do your shoulder?"

He pulled his shirt over his head in answer. She repeated the process of cleaning the mark first with the disinfectant, then started to stitch the wound closed. There was less hesitation now.

"Why the CIA? Why work at all?" she asked.

"What else was I going to do? I watched good friends destroy themselves through drug use. Another lost control of his car and killed five people. My own mother was more concerned with wooing husband number five than her son. It was toxic."

"So you and your mom… you're not close?"

"Not anymore. She took it personally when I walked away. She's still in shock that money wasn't enough. She's disappointed."

"Even though you're one of the good guys?"

"I work for the government. I might as well be a drug dealer in her eyes," he admitted. "I think she'd prefer that, actually."

"That's terrible."

"Not as bad as your stitches. I have never seen anything so crooked in my life."

"Hey!" she protested as she tied off the other wound. "I can just as easily cut these out…"

"I'm teasing you, Leese." He turned his head to kiss her. "Relax."

She closed her eyes. "What are we going to do, Jack? Today was a disaster."

"We'll figure something out. Don't worry."

"Your entire team… they turned on you. We killed them…"

He put his good hand on her shoulder. "What happened today was in no way your fault. It was the only way. He started this, not us. It was us or them. Don't ever doubt that."

"You almost died because of me."

"But I'm still here. You could've left me there."

"You know I couldn't," she whispered, turning her head away from him. "You know I can't…"

He cupped her cheek, turning her back to face him. "Lisa, Leese… it's okay to be angry. To be upset. It's human."

"It was more than that. I'm just angry. At everyone. Keefe. You. Myself."

"Don't be. You didn't do this. You're a victim."

She looked at him, eye-to-eye. "You got shot protecting me. I should be dead."

"But you're not and I'm fine. We are going to fix this. We are going to stop Keefe and my boss."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you. And you don't give up without a fight. Now, let's take it easy and rest. We'll talk about it in the morning. Deal?"

"Deal."

 **Author's Notes:**

I'm so dedicated to this story, you guys, I was writing parts of this chapter on my smartphone before a meeting instead of writing memos.

Disclaimer – my medical knowledge exists solely in CPR and First Aid training. I don't work in the field. Also I don't recommend attempting surgery on yourself. Or digging out bullets (fun fact, you don't necessarily need to remove a bullet – the heat of the gun firing sterilizes it). But you, know, fiction. I can say that stitches fucking hurt even with a local anesthetic and are a bitch to clean. But I'm also a wimp when it comes to needles.

Thanks again to all the reviewers (both guests and registered!)! You guys rock.

Even the simple reviews like "please update soon" are great. I'm really easy to please. Really. Even just a smiley face goes a long way. It's never too late to review!

Guest (chap 16) - Yay, so glad you like it! I hope the name reveal was worth it. Thanks for reviewing!

Maxwell02 (chap 2) – Thanks! It's good to be back. So glad you're enjoying it! Thanks again!

Guest (chap 3) – Yup, Keefe is kinda the big bad. I hope it lives up to what you thought… one of my original plot twists when I was planning this story was having Lisa married to Keefe and then having him try to kill her. I figured that was a bit extreme, so I landed somewhere in the middle. Thanks again!

guest (chap 3) – Thank you! First time reviews make me a little teary-eyed. Thanks so much!

Jk (chap 2) – Thanks.

Guest (chap 2) – Thank you so much! Enjoy!

Just meee (chap 1) – Thanks!


	22. Chapter 22

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty-two**

Showering off blood, sweat, and grime helped Lisa feel more like herself. Given his wounds and recent stitches, Jackson had waved off the offer, instead making due with the sink and a washcloth. He kept his injured leg elevated most of the day, her clumsy stitches covered with a large bandage.

She found fresh clothes in the closets for both of them, claiming one of his shirts as her own. The clothes were all designer and several still had price tags attached. It was all further proof that either he was an excellent liar with a brilliant cover story or this was a piece of the real him. The Jackson Rippner who was Agent Ben Danvers who was Benjamin Wallace.

"How often do you stay here?" she asked while rummaging through the kitchen about an hour later as he sat just a few feet away with his bad leg propped up.

"When I'm in town and not on assignment, I stay here. Sometimes that's once a month, other times I can go as long six or eight months without setting foot inside this place."

"Then why is there food here?" She held out an unopened carton of milk that was surprisingly still in date.

"My mother employs a housekeeper. She keeps the place stocked with a list of items on a regular basis, replacing them when they expire or are used. She also cleans."

"Oh."

"I know, it's an egregious waste of money, but it makes my mother happy. It's not like I can dip into my trust fund."

"You have a trust fund?" she asked.

"Had. Can't exactly have a dead guy spending money."

"Oh, that's true, I guess. Do you ever get confused about who you're supposed to be?"

"Not as often as you would think. It was hardest in the beginning. What are you making?"

"Uh, coffee first then… some sort of food." Lisa held up the cardboard carton. "Eggs ok?"

He smiled at her. "Eggs, Leese? It's not three am."

"Hey, if it could be five o' clock somewhere, then it's probably three somewhere."

"Eggs are fine. Just don't break my coffeemaker. It's fancy and costs more than you make in a year. Be nice to my baby."

"Don't tell me… it has a name?" Lisa shot him a look. The machine sure did look intimidating but probably wouldn't be out of place behind the counter at a Starbucks.

"Be nice."

"You're going to have to talk me through this, Jack."

"Nah, I think you got this."

* * *

Yeah, he was wrong.

Lisa was many things, but a barista was not one of them. She ended up wearing most of the coffee and what did make it into the cup was full of grounds. Eventually, he took pity on her and gave her directions, which resulted in two subpar cups of lukewarm coffee. If they made it through this alive, he would have to teach her how to make decent coffee.

But it was cute, her trying to take care of him. And the eggs were delicious.

She could have left him to die at Keefe's office. He imagined that had it been a few days earlier, she would have let him die. In fact, she probably would have pulled the trigger herself. Now they were partners in crime.

It was a dream come true that was a decade in the making. A dream he had given up on when she left him to die in her father's house.

Now she was in his kitchen and actually seemed happy to be there with him. She was still strong, stubborn and annoyingly opinionated, but she wouldn't be Lisa if she wasn't. He'd come to accept that.

But he also knew their time together was coming to a close. Now that Keefe knew they were working together against him, now that his own team had betrayed them, and now that he knew how high this deception went, it triggered an inevitable countdown.

He had one goal – to make sure Lisa lived through the coming storm.

They had evidence now. Keefe would be finished in the court of public opinion _if_ they could get the word out. The media adored Lisa and had since the Lux ten years earlier. The public loved her. She was believable and a hero.

That's why a news conference, a very public one, was their best chance. Once the recordings were out, Keefe and his boss couldn't easily bury them and pretend this never happened. The public would call for Keefe's head, forcing the CIA to step back and away from him. It would make Lisa less valuable if she already spilled.

If the secret was out, killing her wouldn't silence her. She wouldn't have to die.

He hoped. But keeping her alive long enough to testify to the media would be tricky.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, sitting down across from him on a chair.

"Just what tomorrow brings."

"It's going to be fine, right? The recordings worked."

He nodded. He'd checked them while she took a shower earlier. Keefe's confession was nearly crystal clear. There was no denying who was speaking and no denying the truth of his words. Keefe was finished.

"So we'll do the conference tomorrow and this will all be over."

"Sure," he said with a smile and more confidence than he felt.

* * *

 _The Next Day_

He had never been more nervous in his life than he was standing to the side of the stage.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do."

He shook his head. "Leese, don't be brave. We can find another way."

"No, we can't." She touched his cheek. "I have to do this. It's the only way. We both know it."

"Don't—I don't like this."

"I know. It'll be OK." She leaned forward and kissed him. "I know."

Neither of them could say 'I love you'. They weren't there. They might not ever be.

"Leese..."

"It's ok."

And she stepped away. The camera was already set up, just steps away. They were outdoors, which already unnerved him, and there was a small crowd. They were at a campaign stop Keefe would be visiting later that day.

She gave him a last look before she handed a USB to a waiting man. Another one hooked a mic to her jacket. Then the cameras were rolling, live, and the reporter started speaking. It was all out of his control now.

"We are live here with Lisa Reisert, Charles Keefe's campaign coordinator, who was injured in the attack on his late wife just a few days ago. Miss Reisert has some startling information regarding the bombing. We also have exclusive audio recordings that identify the killer. Miss Reisert, welcome."

"Thank you, Josh."

"Now, you have worked for Charles Keefe for several years and known him for how long?"

"Over ten years," she said. "We met in Miami before he became the Deputy Director of National Security."

"So you knew him during the. bombing there ten years ago?"

She nodded. "Yes, I was working for the hotel then."

"Really?" the reporter seemed surprised. "You worked at the Lux Atlantic?"

"Yes, I was a manager there at the time. I was on scene shortly after the bombing. I left the hotel to work for Charles."

"Fascinating. Now, you were also present when the car carrying Sarah Keefe exploded. Can you tell us what happened?"

She took a breath before responding, "Yes, we were on our way to a campaign event. I was almost to the car when the bomb went off. I was thrown clear of the blast with only minor injuries."

"Now these audio recordings… you say you have evidence of the person behind the attack."

"Yes, I have proof that Charles Keefe is behind the attack-"

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Gunshots rang out, red circles appearing on Lisa's pale blouse, her mouth open in shock. She slumped in her chair as the reporter dived to the ground. Jackson resisted the urge momentarily to run to her. The gunman would shoot him too, he knew.

So instead he watched her, helpless, as she lay there in a growing pool of her own blood.

 **Author's Notes:**

Yes, I totally intended to have the story wrapped up by today, but life got in the way. More specifically health, but I now have another snow day tomorrow so fingers crossed that I get another chapter or two done.

Sorry for breaking your little shipper hearts on Valentine's Day… (sorrynotsorry).

Here's a little outtake to help ease the wait to the next chapter…

Why does Jackson prefer knives? Well I couldn't find a good way to work this into their discussion, but... fencing. Yeah. C'mon, he's a spoiled, rich kid. It was that or sailing. I'm generalizing, I know, but he wasn't taking Taekwondo...

"How do you think I learned so many languages? We traveled constantly."

"And the knives?"

"Fencing lessons."

"Of course. Did you take tennis, too?"

"Polo, actually."

Lisa just shook her head. "I don't know why I even bothered to ask. This place just screams blue blood."


	23. Chapter 23

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty-three**

Across town, Charles Keefe watched the chaos unfold on his TV. He watched Lisa, carefully put together and camera-ready, take her place and begin the accusations against him. He watched the red bloom across her chest and saw her fall.

Never once did he see Jackson Rippner. If the man was still alive and helping her, he didn't appear before the camera.

Instead, he got to watch the light go out of her eyes, see her body go still as she lay in her own blood.

If only she hadn't resisted him. He'd tried for many years to sway her to his side. He'd offered her everything and she always turned him down or joked back, saying "maybe if things were different" or "maybe in another life". But she refused all of his advances for the attention of his own man, Mark Abbott, and now was sleeping in that traitor Rippner's bed. He still couldn't think of him completely as Agent Danvers.

The phone at his desk rang and he picked it up without hesitation.

"I saw the news," the man on the other end said in lieu of a greeting.

"Yes, how unfortunate that Miss Reisert is no longer with us."

"How did she get recordings?"

"Yesterday, during our meeting. I doubt she got anything viable. It was probably a ruse."

"What about Danvers?"

Keefe sighed. "His men are all dead. Killed while they escaped. But he was wounded. It was caught on tape. He lost a lot of blood."

"Don't underestimate his abilities, Charles. He's a cold-hearted bastard, that one. He took a bullet to the chest and survived before."

"He can't survive one to the head. I'll take care of him."

"You better."

There was a click as the other man hung up, leaving him to stare at the TV again. The screen had shifted to the studio and now, audio was playing. He turned up the volume, paling as he recognized his own voice.

Lisa hadn't be been bluffing. She had caught him on tape. And he had damned himself.

* * *

"A sympathy vote?"

"Sarah. If she died in an act against me, whether it was murder or terrorism, the country would feel for me and my loss. It would up my status and again me more supporters. It was a necessary sacrifice."

The conversation looped, starting again with an earlier portion. Parts of the original recording were edited out on the newscasts, and the current parts would get edited further into sound bites. It was only a matter of time.

The public were outraged at the casual acknowledgement of murder by a government official, not to mention a presidential candidate.

It was time to get rid of Charles Keefe.

* * *

Rachel opened the office door, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders today. She had finally taken the phone off the hook. The media circus was getting out of hand. She wasn't trained to deal with situations like this.

"Charlie, what do you think—oh my god!"

She dropped the files in her hand to cover her mouth as bile filled it.

He was dead, very very dead. She didn't need to touch him to see his glassy eyes and pale skin. To see the blood across what remained of his face.

He was missing a large section of his skull. The gunshot had blown most of it away, twisting and distorting the remains.

Charles barely resembled a human, let alone the man she had loved. A man who had just hours ago been accused of arranging his wife's murder for political gain. And now he was dead and there was a gun lying on his desk. A gun she had never seen before.

* * *

Walking into the office to confront his boss would be something akin to suicide, especially in his current state. That's why he went to Gerald Cooper's Georgetown mansion and waited for him to come home. Mrs. Cooper was on a retreat with friends, which was code for a face-lift at a discreet clinic on the West Coast. They had the place to themselves, really.

His team only ever did a perimeter check. There was nothing for them to find. No reason why he wouldn't just walk into his home and lock the front door behind him.

So he did. And Gerald Cooper, deputy director of the CIA, walked right into his home office to find the barrel of a gun aimed at his chest.

"It's time for us to have a talk," Jackson said in a cool voice. "Sit down."

"Danvers, where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you."

"Shut the fuck up, Gerald. You're just pissed that I'm still alive. Tell me, how did you manage to turn four of my own men against me? I'm really curious about that, because honestly, I didn't see that one coming."

His boss took a seat, keeping his hands in plain view. Jackson kept his finger resting on the trigger.

"It was simple, really. I told them you betrayed your country."

He snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. I do hope you have more imaginative lies for them. Especially since they died for them."

"You're wanted for murder."

"Self-defense, Gerald. No one would ever convict me."

"They will if I introduced all your prior bad acts."

Jackson laughed. "Those are classified missions. All inadmissible. Plus they were all on your orders. I acted to protect my cover, same as hundreds of others. No one would convict me. No one."

"But they will burn Lisa Reisert at the stake."

He stood up, keeping the gun trained on his boss. "No, they won't. Lisa Reisert died a goddamn hero and that's how it stays. She never hurt a fucking fly. It's because Keefe had a hard-on for her that she's even part of this mess. Ten years ago, you were convinced she was his mistress. Remember?"

Cooper huffed, clearly annoyed. "She was."

"She never slept with Keefe. It was all in his head."

"It's cute, Danvers, watching you try to defend your dead girlfriend."

"Keefe is the reason she's dead. You are the reason she is dead. So give me a reason why I shouldn't go ahead and blow you away right now?" He moved toward him in a menacing fashion, doing his best not to limp.

"Charles Keefe is dead. He committed suicide."

"I know. I caught CNN while waiting for you."

"Congratulations then. You won. Keefe is gone."

"I'm not just trying to take down Keefe. I'm going to take you down, too."

His boss laughed now. "Me? How do you plan to pull that off?"

"I know you chose me for the Keefe job. What I don't know is why. Why sic me on a guy who's in your pocket? What did you have to gain?"

"Leverage, Danvers," he said with a slow grin. "You see, I never thought you would last this long. You were supposed to die. An unfortunate accident, not unlike Miss Reisert's. But you had to go and get yourself shot. Other field agents would notice if I pulled the plug, so I wasted the resources to bring you back to keep their confidence. It worked."

"And kept my cover with Keefe."

"Precisely. And when I started to put the bug in his ear, he brought your name forth. He suggested you kill the Reisert girl. And it was perfect. With any luck, she would kill you while you killed her and I'd be rid of both of you."

"But it didn't exactly go to plan, now, did it?"

Cooper shook his head. "No, it did not. I miscalculated your feelings for her. Your compassion. Your… humanity. It's why you haven't gone higher in rank. You can't make the necessary decisions. One life against many. You can't. You never have."

"As much as I enjoy the free therapy session, I do have other plans this evening." He was only five feet away now. He steadied the gun with his other hand. "Any last words?"

"This is bigger than you, Keefe, and the girl. We are everywhere. We won't go away so easily. We are immortal. You can kill us one by one, but you will never find us all."

"I have nothing better to do with my time."

"They will hunt you down and destroy anyone you ever knew."

"All you have to do is admit that you framed her. That's it. That this was all a conspiracy."

"Or what?"

He fired.

A bullet tore right through the other man's leg and he howled in pain, clutching his bloody leg as he cursed.

"I have twelve more where that came from and another clip in my pocket. Should I continue?" Jackson asked, dark and clipped.

"You're fucking insane!" Cooper snarled.

"Lisa Reisert. She was a pawn. A victim. She died a hero."

"That's right, Danvers. She died. She's dead. You led her right to her death, like you should've ten years ago. You were supposed to kill her. It was really a simple plan. Get her to order the room change, frame her, and kill her. But you had to go and fuck that up."

"And now?"

"All you had to do was kill her. Then you would've been granted a quick death."

"So you admit to working with Charles Keefe. You donated money to his campaign in exchange for favors? You gave him the idea to kill Sarah Keefe, didn't you? To ensure that your puppet was in the White House. And Lisa was going to take the fall for it. You wanted her to die in the bombing."

"That was the plan."

"That's all I needed."

He fired again, this time the bullet smack in the middle of his forehead.

Jackson lowered the gun and turned to face a security camera. Right to the blinking red light, he said, "It ends here or I will hunt you down one-by-one and kill you. And I will humiliate you. This is your last warning."

He fired again, destroying the camera.

 **Author's Notes:**

I almost didn't have Jackson in this chapter, but I didn't want to drag it out too much or you'd be turning up with pitchforks.

Actually, you still might turn up with pitchforks…

But here I am, posting in the parking lot at work before my Sunday shift starts. We have about two chapters left at this point. I'm almost done with the next one. Pinky promise.


	24. Chapter 24

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty-four**

"The last twenty-four hours have been full of twists out of Washington as presidential hopeful Charles Keefe was caught on tape admitting to arranging the murder of his wife, Sarah. He also admitted to attempting to have his campaign coordinator killed as well."

Click.

"The latest in this bizarre case includes the shooting death of Lisa Reisert. She was shot on live TV at the site of an upcoming rally for Keefe. Keefe was found later that day by his secretary, dead, in his office. Police are investigating it as a potential suicide in response to the leaked audio recordings."

Click.

"Lisa Reisert is being hailed as a hero for tackling government corruption, even as she paid with her life. She is survived by a mother who has declined to be interviewed. Her father, retired Florida attorney Joseph Reisert, died of a heart attack three years ago. Miss Reisert was first hailed as a hero a decade ago in Miami, Florida when Charles Keefe, then Deputy Director of Homeland Security, survived an assassination attempt. Recently gathered audio recordings however seem to point to Keefe as having arranged both that attack and the one that killed his wife, Sarah, just this week."

Click.

"Recently received audio recordings reveal that Charles Keefe was taking bribes from Deputy Director of the CIA, Gerald Cooper. These allegations have launched an investigation into both Keefe and the CIA. Further information suggests that a team of CIA agents were placed undercover and authorized to act within US borders to assist Keefe. Many are speaking out about this egregious abuse of power."

Click.

"At least one member of the team is dead. Agent Ben Danvers passed away from an infected bullet wound sustained in an altercation at Keefe's campaign headquarters earlier this week. He was thirty-eight. Due to the clandestine nature of Agent Danvers's work, we are unable to share any photographs."

Every reporter had their own angle; their own bias. The occasional misinformation amused him to no end. He wasn't surprised that Cooper's death had yet to make the news. He assumed his buddies would make him disappear. No body, no crime. He would simply cease to exist.

That was perfectly fine with the man who had once been Jackson Rippner. Let the media eat them alive and run themselves into circles. As long as Lisa was known as the innocent victim she was, he could sleep at night. That's all the really mattered to him now.

He clicked the TV in the office off late that night, his injured leg stiff from lack of use. He'd been flipping through the channels for at least three hours when he wasn't scrolling through websites on his iPad. He hobbled through the penthouse to the kitchen where he found himself making scrambled eggs.

As far as he was concerned, it was over. Cooper was dead. His team was dead. Everyone assumed Agent Ben Danvers was dead. He could disappear and start over.

Lisa Reisert was dead. Keefe as well. No one close to him or this mess remained to hunt him down or point a finger at him. The ten year long nightmare was finally over.

He flipped the finished eggs onto a plate and shuffled back down the long hallways to the master bedroom. A light peeked out from underneath the cracked door. He nudged it open, then used his good foot to kick it shut.

A messy haired brunette looked up from the bed, the bedside lamp still on. She sat up as he approached, easing on the edge of the bed with the plate in hand.

"You didn't…" she asked, green eyes staring down at the food.

"What else was I gonna make at, oh, 3:45 in the morning?"

"You're insane."

He shrugged. "Eat up, Leese."

The dead woman in his bed shook her head at the pet name and reached for the plate in his lap. "You're a menace."

"You know you love it."

He maneuvered his way to the other side of the bed, stretching out as she ate. He liked to sit and watch her still, no matter what she was doing. It calmed him to see her alive and breathing.

It was his new normal. _Their_ new normal.

* * *

 _Moments After the Shooting_

Her first thought was "Oww, motherfucker!"

The second was that it was really hard to breathe. The third was, yup, she definitely had a broken rib, maybe two. The fourth was that fake blood tasted disgusting.

And the fifth, was "holy fuck, how am I still alive?"

* * *

 _Before the Shooting_

He strapped the body armor, lined with blood packets, over her bra. The packets were cool against her skin and make her skin pimple into goosebumps at the sites. She lifted her arms over her head and Jackson tugged one of his undershirts over her head and over the vest. Fitting her blouse over it strained the buttons a bit, but luckily her jacket covered the worst of it. For the most part, she looked normal.

Well, whatever normal looked like when someone planned to go on national TV and accuse their boss of murder. Oh, yeah,

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "What if they shoot me in the head?"

"I doubt it. They don't want to make it an obvious hit. They'll aim for center mass. You just have to remember to play dead. Move with the force. If it knocks you off balance, let it. If you fight it, it will become obvious. You can do this."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right here, watching. I'm not going to let anything bad happen. I promise. If you still want to back out, there's time…"

"No, no, it has to end. It has to end now," Lisa insisted.

* * *

 _After the Shooting_

Playing dead looked easy on television. In real life, it was incredibly hard to keep her breathing shallow enough that it looked like her heart stopped. She'd kept her eyes open and still for the cameras.

It took Jackson several minutes before he made it to her side and "forced" her eyes closed. Another hour before she was loaded into the waiting ambulance in a zippered bag.

By then, Jackson had left her side. He left her to finish the job.

One of the ambulance workers injected her with a drug, slowing her heart rate before they reached the hospital. The doctor assigned to her signed off on her death certificate with no hesitation. Not with the blood splatter all over her body and a lack of vital signs.

She'd lost the vest at some point, though she didn't quite remember how. She also gained a toe tag while drugged.

She woke up what felt like hours later after the antidote.

Her body was cold and shivered on the metal tray she woke on. Jackson was there, a pile of clothes by her feet. She covered her bare chest with her arms for warmth.

"It's done," he said softly.

He used a cool wipe to remove the dry and crusted blood from her skin as he helped her into all new underwear and finally clothes, her teeth chattering from the chill in the morgue. She had fresh bruises on her chest from the gun shots.

"You… sure…?"

"The world thinks you're dead. And I just neutralized Cooper. We're free."

He helped her off the table and she looked up at him, a sudden warmth filling her body. He could have left her; gone his separate way after the shooting. But he didn't. He came back yet again for her. He had the money and means to disappear. Instead he kept coming back for her.

"Why me?" she breathed, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It was always you, Leese. From ten years ago when I first took the job. I couldn't quit you then. What makes you think now would be any different?"

"It should be."

"And it isn't. We should hate each other, but we don't. I love you, Lisa. You don't have to—"

She cut him off with her lips pressed firmly against his. A few beats later as they parted to breathe, she breathed, "I do, too."

 **Author's Notes:**

Did you really think I was cruel enough to kill Lisa? Really? Show of hands? That many of you? Have I ever steered you guys wrong before? Oh, yeah, I have killed Jackson before… ooops.

Next chapter will serve as kind of an epilogue. I don't forsee a sequel for this story, but that doesn't mean I won't write another _Red Eye_ fic of some sort (probably some one-shots, just for a change of pace). I do hope to have the last chapter up this weekend if my health allows it and things settle down at my work. I've just been too drained to function afterwards lately.

Please keep the reviews coming! I do allow anonymous/guest reviews.

trudes193 \- It's all good! I'm guilty of the same thing as a reader. Oh, I seriously thought about killing one of them for real in this story. There was a lot of consideration and internal debate. I thought a nice fakeout was in order.

Thank you, thank you! Those types of scenes can be such a pain to write. It's part of why I included the earlier scene with Lisa and Mark - the contrast between the two relationships and how different each of the men are and how she reacts to being around them.

I love, love, LOVED writing Keefe as a creep. It was soooo much fun! Ahhh! One of the two tracks for this story when I started planning it, oh, like last June because I'm a nerd like that, was Lisa having MARRIED Keefe after he divorced his wife AND THEN him still trying to have her killed. Then I was like, ummm, no, Lisa wouldn't marry him.

The original script I got my hands on ages ago for the film hinted at a relationship between Lisa and Keefe and honestly that's always been in the back of my mind... like what if Keefe had a creepy ass crush on the young hotel employee he interacts with? Plus, dude's a politician. He wouldn't be the first to have an affair. Plus, power corrupts. Or so I've been told. The people I supervise laugh when I try to be tough or scary. Plus I share the power with a co-supervisor. They sense my soft-hearted nature. (I was a lot tougher when I worked in a restaurant as management.)

Have you been reading my outline? The final chapter will show them at different points in time after the present day scene we saw at the start (the one where Jackson made eggs) so it should pretty well sum up what happens to them in the future to a point... so we'll see if they're happy, sad, indifferent... if there's mini Jacks... etc. I think you'll be happy. :)

Thanks again for all your reviews throughout!


	25. Chapter 25

**Innocent People's Lives**

 **Chapter Twenty-five**

 _Two Months Later_

When he healed enough for lengthy travel, they left Washington, D.C. They were no longer Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner. They were Lisa and Ben Walker now. Even knowing that his real name was Ben, she still called him Jack at times. And he often called her Leese.

They fell into a comfortable routine.

On paper, they were husband and wife. They still weren't officially married—they had never taken vows before anyone other than each other. It just happened to be easier to travel as a 'married' couple.

He bought them both rings, with his simple band complimenting her own wedding band. She'd made him go for a smaller, less ostentatious diamond than he'd originally planned.

She worked sometimes, just for a bit of pocket money. He never bothered and funded their trips from his own funds. She had been unable to get her own savings, due to the whole being dead thing.

Lisa never wanted to depend on a man. She was used to being independent. But being with him changed that. She had to learn to accept it, one day at a time.

So they used his money, which he called "their" money, and went west. They took their time, bouncing around.

Right now, they were in a dreary Seattle, staying in another Wallace family property.

She came home from work to see him in the penthouse kitchen, dinner already waiting on the eat-in bar, and a chilled bottle of wine beside two empty glasses. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a grin.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"It's Thursday."

"And?"

"Just Thursday."

She shook her head. "You're ridiculous, Jack. Thank you."

She climbed onto one of the stools and he poured her a glass of her favorite white wine. She kissed him on the lips, tasting something rich and creamy. It must have been a taste-test of their dinner.

"Mhmm," she said. "What's that?"

"An old favorite. It's a French recipe. Very rich."

"I'm not going to have any space for desert."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then maybe we should start with desert."

Her back pressed against the counter as he leaned in, kissing her deeper. She moaned into the kiss. He moved closer, nearly lifting her onto the bar. The stool rocked a bit, unsteady from their combined weight.

"You're going to kill us!" she hissed, swatting him on the butt.

"Then I'll die a very, very happy man."

* * *

 _One Year Later – Paris, France_

Lisa turned over to her other side in the bed they shared. She groaned a bit and he bolted upright beside her. "Lesse? You okay?"

"Just moved too fast," she muttered through clenched teeth.

It was dark in their bedroom, the curtains closed to block the city lights out. He put a hand on her very rounded stomach. There was a kick in response that made her flinch. "You sure?"

"I'm fine. They're not due for another six weeks. Don't worry."

He flipped on a beside lamp. "Of course I'm worried. You know what the doctor said. It's a high risk pregnancy. Plus, there's a great chance you'll go into early labor—"

She leaned closer and kissed his lips, cutting him off. "Stop worrying. You'll upset the babies."

He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Just relax. We knew the risks from the start. We'll be fine." She touched his cheek as he rubbed her stomach.

"How are you so calm?"

"Because I have you. And soon we'll have two kids to love and protect. And we'll be a real family."

He nodded. "If that's true… will you finally marry me?"

She looked startled. "Marry…?"

"I know, I know how hesitant you've been. And if you still want to wait, we can wait—"

"No, no, Jack… no, I don't want to wait anymore. I'm over that. I want to be your wife. So that we can really be a family. For all of us."

"God, Leese…" He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her as best he could. "You are the most infuriating woman I've ever met. And I love you for it. As much as you drive me insane, I love you. I love you like no one else. You're my everything and I can't wait to meet our children. If they have the slightest part of your strength… your tenacity…"

"If these are your wedding vows, Jack, they are terrible."

He smiled at her. "So what if they are?"

"I think we should stick to more traditional ones."

"Since when has anything about our relationship been traditional?" he countered.

Lisa shook her head. "Fine… you win."

* * *

 _Three Years Later – London, England_

"Boys, get in the car!" he shouted, a bag slung over his shoulder, his other arm around Lisa's waist. She was bent forward and in pain.

"No!" yelled one of the dark-haired boys sitting on the floor.

"Yes, let's go!"

"No!" said the other boy, pouting with his arms crossed.

"Jackson and Joseph, you will get in the car right now or no screens or toys for a month!"

The boys looked bewildered and stuffed some toys in their pockets before racing out to the car, each yelling they were going to beat the other.

"I swear, they're going to be the death of me one of these days," he said, shaking his head as he supported Lisa out the front door.

"I'd be more worried about this one…" Lisa hissed, squeezing his arm in an iron grip.

* * *

"Henrietta. You named our innocent, baby girl Henrietta? It's like you want her to get beat up on the playground!"

"She has two older brothers. I highly doubt she'll have to worry about playground bullies." Lisa held the little pink-wrapped bundle in her arms.

The boys had headphones over their ears and were sitting in chairs along the wall, lost in their tablets.

"Still, Henrietta?"

"Etta for short."

"That's not much better," he grumbled.

"I tell you what… next time you push a baby out of your vagina, you get to name it."

"Fine… Henrietta it is."

* * *

 _Five Years Later_

His leg never fully healed from the bullet wound he got protecting Lisa from his team. There was a bit of a shuffle to his gait, a hitch in his step; a limp. Had he still been with the CIA, they never would have cleared him for the field. But that no longer mattered.

Not with Jack and Joey. And Etta.

The twins had not been a completely unpleasant surprise. After the initial shock of Lisa's pregnancy wore off, he had found himself looking forward to becoming a father. He'd never let himself dream or even consider having children before Lisa. Having a family.

Perhaps it was the way he was raised. An only child, constantly passed off and handed off to nannies, instead of surrounded by warm and loving parents. His father passed by the time he turned eight and his mother moved on for the hunt for another husband. He went through four stepfathers before college.

But Lisa, she was a born mother, full of love and compassion. She helped him be the father he always wanted and never had.

They never discussed an alternative when they learned Lisa was pregnant. Even when it went from a single baby to twin humans growing inside her, he was nothing if not supportive and paranoid. But no one ever threatened his family again. The news media surrounding Keefe died down. His family disappeared into obscurity.

And they had left the US. It would always be home for them, but not for their children. The twins were born in the South of France and Etta in England, where they eventually settled down. He finally tied the knot with Lisa in Paris, two weeks before the twins arrived ahead of schedule.

They were Lisa and Ben Richards now. It was the last name change, they hoped, for the sake of their young children.

The boys took after him with his dark hair and light eyes, both identical and sneaky as hell. The elder of their sons, by five minutes as he often reminded his brother, was Joseph. They called him Joe or Joey most of the time. It had been his idea to name one of their sons for Lisa's dad. She'd cried when he suggested it.

She had named their younger son Jackson against his protests. She had a hard time remembering to call him Ben, even after all this time. As Jack got older, she got better at it, but often when in the heat of the moment, especially when she was pissed at him, she'd scream at him "Jack!" or "Jackson!" and their son would bolt up like gopher through his hole, looking at his mother with a petrified look on his face.

That always calmed her down. She'd hug and soothe him, apologize and say she meant Daddy, which only confused their son because dad was Ben not Jack. And he'd sit there and try not to smile and laugh as she tried to say it was a nickname for their dad, while his youngest son sat there with confusion written across his face.

Eventually, he'd rescue her and she'd swat him playfully and he'd kiss her. Which made Jack yell "Ewwww, gross!" and run away, confusion forgotten.

Then there was Etta. The little terror who was just as gorgeous as her mother. Since her mother picked her first name, he'd suggested Sarah for a middle name. And it stuck. And depending on the day, Etta herself would respond to one or the other. She was a stubborn girl, just like her mother.

"Daddy! Play with me!" she screamed, tugging on his hand and he didn't resist. He couldn't resist his little girl any more than he could resist her mother.

Lisa smiled at him from across the room, the boys immersed in a video game on the TV.

"Okay, sweet pea, what are we doing here?" he asked, crouching down beside his daughter.

"Tea party!"

"That's my favorite kind of party. How did you know?"

His daughter beamed at him, with Lisa's eyes, and that moment, just like hundreds of thousands of other little moments with his family made the ten years of hell worth it. It made going up against the CIA and Keefe worth it. It made every scar and bullet hole worth it.

Because those bad moments, those rough moments, led him here to his wonderful wife and their three children. He wouldn't trade money or power or anything else for his family. The longer he was a husband and a father, the less he understood Keefe.

They were his whole world now and he wouldn't have it any other way.

 **Author's Notes:**

Whew, that was a rollercoaster and a half of a story! Thank you for following me on it and I hope you enjoyed the ending as well. Beginnings and ends are personally the hardest for me to write.

Specials thanks to all the reviews and encouragement throughout. Hearing from you all reminds me of why I continue to write after all these years. Some of you may know that I also write original works under T. M. Carper all of which are available digitally and some that are available in print. It's an insane amount of work being a self-published author but I wouldn't have it any other way.

As for what's coming next fan fiction-wise, I don't have any more _Red Eye_ fics planned at the moment. I imagine my next one will be a one-shot. For any readers who also read my Alice fics, I have a rough outline for _A Thousand Shards of Glass_ and a partial chapter or two so far.

My next big fan fic I'm planning will be my first Star Wars one. This movie hit me like freight train, just like _Red Eye,_ and I'm shipping Rey and Kylo Ren just as hard as JacksonxLisa. It's another hero/villain thing for those who don't know Star Wars. Working title is _Redemption and Ruin_ and I hope to start posting it soon.

You guys rock! Much love.

trudes193 – Thank you, thank you! Hugs to you, too. Hope the ending lived up to your expectations! :)


End file.
